Redemption
by KissOfShadows13
Summary: Anastasia challenges Christian from the first moment they meet. He wants her and he always gets what he wants. While his proximity could mean Anastasia's downfall, it could also mean his redemption. Is Christian willing to take the chance? "The demons inside us" from CPOV.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello, there! Welcome!**

 **Many of you have expressed your desire to read** The demons inside us **from CPOV. Sooooo... this is it!**

 **Hope you like it! Let me know ;)**

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" _ **Why is it that when one man builds a wall, the next man immediately needs to know what's on the other side?"  
― **__**George R.R. Martin**_

 **CPOV**

 **Monday, May 9, 2011**

I open my eyes and my dream fades in the early-morning light. What the hell was that about? I grasp at the fragments as they recede, but fail to catch any of them. Dismissing it, like I do most mornings, I climb out of bed and find some newly laundered sweats in my walk-in closet.

Outside, a leaden sky promises rain, and I'm not in the mood to be rained on during my run today. I head upstairs to my gym, switch on the TV for the morning business news, and step onto the treadmill. My thoughts stray to the day. I've nothing but meetings, though I'm seeing my personal trainer later for a workout at my office—Bastille is always a welcome challenge.

 _Maybe I should call Elena?_

 _Yeah. Maybe._ We can do dinner later this week.

I stop the treadmill, breathless, and head down to the shower to start another monotonous day.

.

"Tomorrow," I mutter, dismissing Claude Bastille as he stands on the threshold of my office.

"Golf, this week, Grey." Bastille grins with easy arrogance, knowing that his victory on the golf course is assured.

I scowl after him as he turns and leaves. His parting words rub salt into my wounds because despite my heroic attempts in the gym this morning, my personal trainer has kicked my ass. Bastille is the only one who can beat me, and now he wants another pound of flesh on the golf course. I detest golf, but so much business is done on the fairways I have to endure his lessons there too... and though I hate to admit it, Bastille does go some way to improving my game.

As I stare out at the Seattle skyline, the familiar ennui seeps into my consciousness. My mood is as flat and gray as the weather. My days are blending together with no distinction, and I need some kind of diversion. I've worked all weekend and now, in the continued confines of my office, I'm restless. I shouldn't feel this way, not after several bouts with Bastille. But I do.

I frown. The sobering truth is that the only thing to capture my interest recently has been my decision to send two freighters of cargo to Sudan. This reminds me—Ros is supposed to come back to me with numbers and logistics. What the hell is keeping her? Intent on finding out what she's playing at, I glance at my schedule and reach for the phone.

 _Oh, Christ!_ I have to endure an interview with the persistent Miss Kavanagh for the WSU student magazine. Why the fuck did I agree to this? I loathe interviews— inane questions from inane, ill-informed, vacuous idiots.

The phone buzzes.

"Yes," I snap at Andrea as if she's to blame. _At least I can keep this interview short._

"Miss Anastasia Steele is here to see you, Mr. Grey."

"Steele? I was expecting Katherine Kavanagh."

"It's Miss Anastasia Steele who's here, sir."

I scowl. I hate the unexpected. "Show her in," I mutter, aware that I sound like a sulky teen but not giving a fuck.

 _Well, well... Miss Kavanagh is unavailable._ I know her father, the owner of Kavanagh Media. We've done business together, and he seems like a shrewd operator and a rational human being. This interview is a favor to him—one that I mean to cash in later when it suits me. And I have to admit I was vaguely curious about his daughter, interested to see if the apple had fallen far from the tree. But, instead of meeting with Katherine Agnes Kavanagh, I will meet some other girl I know nothing about. I have to admit, I'm not very entertained by the thought.

As I rise from my leather chair and button my suit, my eyes catch the door opening. In just a few strides, I close the distance and wait for the girl to come through the door. As soon as our eyes meet, I'm frozen to my spot.

Clear, bright-blue eyes meet mine. They are the most extraordinary color—guileless, powder-blue—and for one awful moment, I think she can see right through me. I feel... exposed. The thought is unnerving. She has a small smile on her face but I can see her muscles tensing. _What is that about?_

"Miss Kavanagh? I'm Christian Grey. Would you like to sit?" I say as I extend a hand towards her. She still has that weary look in her eyes but she extends her hand nonetheless. The moment our skin touches, a weird exhilarating current sweeps through me, heading straight to my dick. _What the fuck?_

I blink a few times and regain control over my body. In command once more, I study her. A beautiful face, small nose, perfectly arched eyebrows, full lips that are begging to be kissed, all framed by straight bangs that cover her forehead and a intricate braid swept to the side. _Oh, baby, how I'd like to grip that braid as I watch myself slide into you._ And those leather cuffs attached to her wrists aren't doing my imagination any favors.

 _What the fuck, Grey? Get yourself under control, for fuck's sake!_

A brunette. Yeah, she's attractive.

 _Drop it, Grey!_

"Actually, Ms. Kavanagh is indisposed, so she sent me. I hope you don't mind, Mr. Grey." The girl says with a cool and collected voice.

"And you are?" I ask, mildly amused by the turn of events. The perfect submissive has just walked into my office just as I was thinking about blowing off some steam. Could this turn out even better?

"Anastasia Steele. I'm studying English Literature with Miss Kavanagh at Washington State." The girl replies as her back straightens almost instantly and I take a second to analyze that. While others would lean slightly forward, a sign of submission, this girl straightens herself, as though she's taking command. _What is this about, Miss Steele?_

She doesn't look like the nervous and bookish type even though I can detect something in her stance. She's not as collected as she'd like to appear. She's also dressed as though she's attending brunch. On other occasions, I would have raised an eyebrow and point that out but her outfit gives me a peek at her athletic built so I keep my mouth shut as I try to keep away images of those long, lean legs wrapping themselves around me. _Fuck!_

Miss Steele looks around my office and a small frown appears on her beautiful face.

Muttering some platitude, I ask her to sit, then notice her discerning gaze appraising my office paintings. Before I can stop myself, I find I'm explaining them. "A local artist. Trouton."

"They're lovely. Raising the ordinary to extraordinary," she says, lost in the exquisite, fine artistry of my paintings. Her profile is delicate—an upturned nose, soft, full lips—and in her words she has mirrored my sentiments exactly. "The ordinary raised to extraordinary." It's a keen observation. _Miss Steele is bright._ I can't help but wonder what else she has in store.

She fishes a crumpled sheet of paper and a state of the art mobile phone. I take my time observing her as she sets up her phone to record our interview. She's focused, collected and moves with delicacy. I find it oddly refreshing. It's obvious she hasn't done this before and double checks everything. Normally, I'd be bored and pissed by now but the thought only brings a smile on my lips. I hide my smile behind my index finger.

"Did Kate—I mean Miss Kavanagh—explain what the interview was for?"

Her crystal-like voice snaps me out of my daydream.

"Yes, to appear in the graduation issue of the student newspaper as I shall be conferring the degrees at this year's graduation ceremony." Why the fuck I've agreed to do that, I don't know. Sam in PR tells me it's an honor, and the environmental science department in Vancouver needs the publicity in order to attract additional funding to match the grant I've given them.

Miss Steele blinks, all big blue eyes once more, as if my words are a surprise and fuck—she looks disapproving! Hasn't she done any background work for this interview? She should know this. The thought cools my blood. It's... displeasing, not what I expect from her or anyone I give my time to.

She reigns herself in and a controlled look sets upon her face. _Showtime!_

Then the questions start.

I reply politely to all of them and shut down whatever I deem inappropriate. I tell her about my work, my power, the control I have over so many people. As I talk, I think back to all the success I've managed to have under my belt. My decisions have brought me here, on top of my world, controlling and commanding whoever steps foot in here with ease.

Just when I think I have her swooning and wrapped around my finger, the most unexpected words fall from her full, plump lips.

"Well, that sounds utterly boring."

 _What the fuck did she just say?_

.

 **Thursday, May 12, 2011**

"What brings you by on such short notice, Christian?" My therapist, John Flynn, asks as he regards me shrewdly.

You would think that with all the money I pay this fucker, he would be salivating at the mere thought of another session with me but he's not. The reason is simple: I'm not his usual type of patient. I pay him so I can boss him around and punish myself with his presence. I pay him so I can look him in the eye as I tell him about the girls I fuck on weekends and how their pink ass – courtesy of my cane – turns me on. I don't pay him to play the therapist role with me.

But John remained stoic throughout every story and each sordid detail. He's an unwilling companion who gets paid handsomely and nothing more. John's developed thicker skin since our sessions have started and I suspect he's also pissed off by the many times I've blown him off and brushed aside his help. Can't say I blame him but like the fucker I am, I don't care.

 _Until now._ Until I've met her and let her words get the better of me. What happened to cool and controlled Christian Trevelyan-Grey? _He went under the fucking buss, that's what happened!_ I've become too interested in this girl only because she dared to give voice to many people's thoughts. But her curiosity and guts has me thinking about her non-stop as her voice keeps echoing through my mind, driving me fucking crazy.

 _Are you happy, Mr. Grey?_

"I want to talk." I say, my tone flat and lacking any kind of inflection even though I'm burning on the inside with a myriad of questions. However, I need to keep my shit cool around John. He'll smell a good subject a mile away.

"What would you like to talk about?" He asks, pen and pad poised to take notes that he probably burns afterwards. It's not like I ever gave him anything interesting during all our years of… collaboration. I am a conceited asshole and I own up to that title daily.

"Us." I say and fix him with my gaze.

John looks up from his notepad and cocks his head to the side, inspecting my appearance for a brief second before abandoning the notepad and leaning back in his chair.

"What about us, Christian? I'm afraid you need to be a bit more specific than that." He asks as he settles comfortably into his chair, probably ready for another game of power.

"Our doctor-patient relationship and how it has evolved during the years." I explain even though I have a feeling he knows more than he lets on.

"It hasn't." He replies with a flat tone.

His answer surprises me. Not that I didn't know it – deep down – but because I wasn't expecting him to own up to this failure. Or mine. Sure, he's helped me make some progress, compared to others before him who were all words and no action. John Flynn has been my doctor for almost four years now and I have to admit that he could have done much more, if only I'd let him.

I tilt my head to the side and examine his expression. There's the tiniest hint of annoyance in his eyes and the slight clench of jaw that follows gives him away. Then again, maybe he's tired of this farce and just wants to get this over with. Maybe he wants to give me a referral and be done with this. Again, can't say I blame him. I hate myself even in my best days. And this is definitely not a good day for me.

"And why is that?" I ask even though I know exactly why. It's because I'm not willing to let him inside my head to pick apart thought by thought, memory by memory.

"You already know the answer to that particular question." John replies and makes no move to continue his trail of thought. His gaze is unnerving. I look away and study his office.

His office is close to Grey House and it's a plus, considering how many times I blow up in a day and sometimes need to see him with little to no short notice. It's located in a nice brownstone, also the home of his wife, Rhian, and his two children. They're the picture perfect family. _Something you'll never have, Grey!_

I've met John through my mother, at one of the events supporting Coping Together, my mother's project. One of the most esteemed psychiatrists that volunteered their time and knowledge to help children and broken families to piece themselves together. He surprised me with his knowledge and tactics but I never allowed it to get too far. If he gets inside my head, he'll see exactly just how screwed up I am. I'm scared of that.

 _Then why are you here, Grey?_

"I never thought I'd say this but I don't think this direction of therapy is working out for me." I say and scrub my hands over my face. I've slept like shit these past few days but, instead of being tormented by nightmares and night terrors, I'm tormented by Miss Steele's face and voice as she asks me that fucking question that I can't get out of my mind. Am I happy? Of course I'm not! But I'm rich as fuck and that makes up for it.

 _Does it?_

"Therapy only works when we have a genuine desire to know ourselves as we are. Not as we would like to be." John replies while looking at straight into my eyes.

 _What the fuck is that supposed to mean?_

"What do you mean _to know ourselves as we are_?"

"Again, you already have your answer."

His patience is driving me up the damn walls. I wanted a reaction, a gesture, an emotion… something. Instead, I'm facing a mirror. I should give something if I want to get something in return. Instead I continue to press, hoping it wouldn't reach that point. I don't want the fucker inside my head. That's out of the question.

"Christian, I hope you won't mind me asking but what brought this on?"

Miss Steele has brought this on. Her theory that I'm setting myself up for failure, that I'm doing things I know won't bring me any pleasure, that I'm not really winning anything, that I'm lying to myself. Those eyes that seemed to look deep within my soul. _You don't have a soul._ Then why did it feel that way? Why did I feel naked and analyzed with only one look, with only one smile and a touch that set me on fire?

"I had an interview a few days ago." I mutter like a petulant child, scolded by his mother. The last thing I wanted was to discuss Anastasia Steele.

"What happened?" John asks, his interest piqued.

"The girl said some things... it got me thinking, I guess." I murmur as I stare out the window and think back to Anastasia Steele. I still haven't got her background check from Welch and I'm this close to calling the fucker and fire him. It shouldn't take this fucking long to find out everything there is to know about Miss Steele. What's keeping him?

"Got you thinking about what?" John prompts with an intense look on his face.

"What a fucked-up motherfucker I am." I mutter and resist the urge to grab my hair and pull at it.

He laughs openly at my reply. My fists clench in reply. What the fuck? I pay this fucker $2,000 per session so I can be ridiculed?

 _No, you pay him so you can play the boss with him when he's supposed to help you. Payback's a bitch, isn't it, Grey?_

"Why are you still my therapist, John? I bet I'm not the only motherfucker with mommy issues in this world who can pay $1,000 per hour." I say with a smile but I know it doesn't reach my eyes.

I'm tense as fuck. And it's all because of her, because of her assessing gaze, because of the truth backing up her words, because of her… question. I breathe out a gush of air and scrub my hands over my face, trying to get a fucking grip. This doesn't happen to me! I'm Christian fucking Gray! Shit like this doesn't fly with me! Shit like this is shut down before I even get a fraction of a second to think it through! What the fuck is going on with me?!

"Why are you still my patient, Christian?" John asks calmly, as though I've never mentioned leaving him and finding another shrink.

 _The million dollar question._

"I feel comfortable with you." I reply with a shrug and try the nonchalance card even though I'm far from it. Way too far from it!

"You feel comfortable around anyone who is willing to sign a NDA." He points out. Fucker's right and he knows it. "Try again."

I shut my mouth and glare at him. He's unfazed. _Go figure!_

"But I don't usually pay them $2,000 per session." I say through clenched teeth. My temper is seconds away from snapping.

"You pay them more in clothes, jewelry and all kinds of gifts. All to entertain the idea of you being in control. The same thing happens during each of our sessions. I get paid and you play the boss. I cannot answer a question you can't dare to ask, Christian. These sessions are about you. You pay for my time and I listen. That's how this works." John replies, cool as a fucking cucumber while I'm seething here. His collected demeanor makes me want to hit something. I bet the fucker knows it.

"They're not prostitutes." I hiss, my teeth clenched and my fists balled.

"I didn't say that. I merely pointed out how you relate to those around you. You give them something, you receive something back. Fair trade, isn't it?"

I stare at him. I've never thought of my contracts that way before. The thought is unnerving. What would that make Elena? The Madam?

John's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I focus on him once again, pushing away the feeling of uneasiness that has settled in my bones.

"You've been replacing your missing pieces with obsessions and power plays. In a way, it's normal. A magic door is always attractive, Christian. But in your case, like most cases, that magic door doesn't open to reality. It opens to a fantasy. You cannot live in a fantasy and you have to come to terms with that. Reality doesn't go away because you stop believing in it. It's stubborn like that. As stubborn as your dreams. It's always there and it will continue to be there until you acknowledge it and face it head on."

"Isn't that what I'm doing here?" I ask, a little surprised that he talking about facing my fears.

"You and I both know the answer to that."

Silence settles over us as I mull over John's words and he keeps a close eye on me. The fucker has a point but I'm not going to admit that. It could open a loophole and John would never miss such an opportunity. Such a precedent would be a victory.

 _Isn't he supposed to help you? His victory would also be yours._

"Tell me about this girl that has you up at night." He prompts and leans back in his chair once again, ready to take notes about Miss Steele.

I grip my hair and rest my elbows on my thighs. Just thinking about her has me going up the damn walls. No one has ever managed to get to me the way Miss Steele has. Her speech, the look in her eyes, her sassy way of pointing out the obvious and calling me on my bullshit... it all points out to a very intelligent woman who has been through something. That something could prove to be dark, much like my past. _Is that why her background check is taking this long?_

"She's a mystery. One moment I can almost swear that she'd make the perfect sub, the next – she opens her mouth and blows me off." I say and try to keep my tone as even as possible.

John seems intrigued.

"I see. Does she have a name?"

"Anastasia Steele."

His pen freezes over the notepad and a frightened look covers John's face.

"What?" I ask, ready to jump from my seat and strangle him if he decides to avoid my question. _'Cause that would only be fair, Grey._

"How did she end up in your office?" John asks after carefully studying my reaction and body language. _Damn him!_

On a different occasion, I would have pointed out that it's rude to answer a question with another question but there's a part of me that wants to discuss Anastasia Steele with him so I do just that. I tell him all about the interview, the mixed signals and brutal honesty that she threw my way without a moment's notice, her captivating eyes and delectable tight body.

Just thinking about her has my cock standing up for attention. Those eyes, that mouth, that rosy complexion, those long, shiny tresses coiffed to perfection in that intricate braid. Every fiber in my being wanted to grab it and twist it around my hand so I could tilt her head back and watch as I ease myself into her, inch by inch. _Fuck! Get a grip, Grey! She's not yours!_

"Did you run a background check on her?"

John snaps me out of my daydream and I scowl at him for a second before I answer his question.

"Yes." I mutter, still pissed that I haven't gotten what I asked for _three_ days ago.

"Did she express her agreement to look into her past?"

"No."

"Then why go ahead and do that?"

"Because I needed to know."

"Know what?"

"There was something in her eyes. Plus, she got me curious. It's very rare that anything gets me curious."

"Christian, this goes beyond curiosity. I must warn you that going behind someone's back and rummaging through their private life will, sooner or later, turn into something serious."

"You know her." I say with a calm voice even though I'm curious as hell.

"I know _of_ her." He replies ambiguously as he stares out the large, floor to ceiling window, a distant look in his eyes. I've never seen John like this, pensive and far away. I've never seen him in other position than being my shrink, to be fair, but this unexpected turn of events has me almost as intrigued as Anastasia Steele.

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?" I hiss and narrow my eyes at him.

Sensing that I'm really close to my daily limit of bullshit, John sighs and looks out the window for a few more seconds almost as if he's at odds with himself on how much to tell me.

"Once upon a time, I had been given the chance to look over her file. I couldn't take her case because I already had you, my full-time patient."

"She needed a shrink?" I ask and all air leaves my lungs.

 _What the fuck?!_

I'm floored. I think back to my interaction with her. There were moments when I thought she was uncomfortable, even fearful, but I thought that was due to my attitude. I would have never guessed she went thought something that needed the attention of a shrink.

 _But you did think that her eyes were hiding something. Don't lie to yourself, Grey!_

Suddenly, knowing her past is not longer a simple curiosity. It's a necessity.

"What did you find? Was your curiosity satisfied?" John asks me a beat later.

"Nothing. Welch hasn't given it to me yet." I reply and watch as a deep breath is released from John's chest. _What the fuck is this all about?_

"What can you tell me about her file? What happened to her?" I ask, even though I'm almost 100% sure he'll shut me out. _A man has to try._

"I cannot speak to you about that, Christian. This is a matter which concerns Anastasia Steele and only her. _This_ session is about you and your tendency to do things that are not advisable. The reasons are both objective and subjective. But let's look beyond social norms and focus on the good it's supposed to do to you. You actions, which you justify as independent from your emotions, are nothing short of emotional. The background check you ordered on Anastasia Steele is a leading example."

"So what if I ordered a background check on Anastasia Steele?" I ask, frowning at his little speech. It doesn't seem like a big deal to me. I do it all the time with the people I come in contact with. What's so wrong to knowing everything there is to know about a person you've met? What's so wrong with knowing their weakness before they can even think of looking for yours?

"This isn't about Anastasia Steele even though she is a subject that we will approach again, when you shall have all facts in front of you. This is about you not trusting those around you, this is about your pushing boundaries that shouldn't be pushed in the first place. How would you feel if you were in their place?"

"I'd be OK with it. If they have nothing to hide..."

"When you say _something to hide,_ you're talking about hiding something from _you_ , the one person who has the right to know everything?"

I glare at John.

"What makes you entitled to know everything?" He pushes, waiting for me to push back. _Tough luck, John._

I shrug.

"I can, therefore I do."

Even in my head, that doesn't sound right but I shut up that small voice inside my head telling me to think about it. I didn't get to this level by trusting whatever shit people threw my way and hoped for the best. Business is this way.

"But Anastasia Steele isn't business, is she? Your former subs weren't business either. There is nothing related to business when it comes down to the women in your life."

 _Did I say that out loud?_

"Yes, you did. You're blurring the lines, Christian. It's been going on for a while now and I think it's time we talked about it. I think it's time you owned up to your need to control anything that could come in contact with you."

"Why is that such a bad thing?"

"Because there is no such thing as complete control. You couldn't control your subs to not fall for you and it's happened too many times for you to keep ignoring it. It's time you face it, Christian."

John sighs and leans forward in his seat.

"Christian, this has got to stop."

"Are you telling me what to do, John?" I hiss and narrow my eyes. Does he think he can start bossing me around and tell me what to do? If that's the case, he's in for a very rude awakening.

"Christian, I'm not here to start drawing lines. In our four years together, have I ever tried to make you do something you didn't approve of?"

"No."

"Did I try to impose my will over yours?"

"No". _Not that you could even if you wanted to._ I add silently and bite back a smirk.

"Did I ever try to manipulate you?"

"No."

Silence falls in the office as John studies me and I stare blankly back.

"I have been tempted, though. A therapist's life is equal parts counsel and curiosity. One can fall prey to curiosity too easily."

"So, what? You wanted to experiment on me? Manipulate me? Is that it?" I ask, stupefied.

"You can easily manipulate someone when you have all the facts. You know exactly what topic to approach, how to act and react, the list goes on and on. Manipulation comes so easily when you know and the other person doesn't know about your knowledge. It gives you the upper hand. You of all people would know this."

I stare at John, confused.

"Stop speaking in riddles and tell me where you want to get." I hiss.

"Tell me you're not trying to manipulate Anastasia Steele into becoming your submissive."

I'm stunned. I've never thought of it that way. Sure, I'm attracted to her and there's something inside her that's calling out to me but I don't know how far I would go to have her. _Sure you do. You want to make her yours, Grey!_

John must have seen my thoughts on my face because he starts talking without any reply from my side.

"I need to remind you: this isn't purely about Anastasia. This is about everyone before her and everyone that will follow her. You are in a circle and until you break this circle, nothing is going to change. And I have a feeling you're getting bored. Am I right?"

"Maybe."

John smiles.

"Miss Steele fascinates you more than anyone before her, doesn't she?"

Involuntarily, a smile appears on my lips as I think back to that smart mouth.

 _Yes, Miss Steele fascinates me._

"Maybe it's time for a change, Christian."

* * *

 **So? When should I publish chapter 2? _Should_ I publish chapter 2? Your reviews will decide ;)**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello! How are you this fine Friday? Waiting for a new chapter? Why... here it is!**

 **Just a few tings I'd like to say about the story.**

 **First and foremost, _Grey_ has been released and this story may contain little bits of it. They are the property of E.L. James, not mine. **

**Second, if any of you had any doubts about Christian's morals, read the book and you'll be more than enlightened. Let's just say that Christian is... different than what I imagined. That doesn't change the way I envisioned him for this story but still...**

 **Third, and final, yes, Christian is going to be a hard character to root for. At least in the first chapters. Ana and Christian are not black and white characters. Ana is not only light while Christian is only black. Keep that in mind.**

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" _ **You're like a god from a Greek myth, Saiman. You have no empathy. You have no concept of the world beyond your ego. Wanting something gives you an automatic right to obtain it by whatever means necessary with no regard to the damage it may do. I would be careful if I were you. Friends and objects of deities' desires dropped like flies. In the end the gods always ended up miserable and alone."**_

 **CPOV**

 **Saturday, May 14, 2011**

With Moby blasting in my ears I run down Southwest Salmon Street toward the Willamette River. It's 6:30 in the morning and I'm trying to clear my head. Last night I dreamed of her. Blue eyes, breathy voice… her sentences ending with "sir" as she knelt before me. Since I've met her, my dreams have been a welcome change from the occasional nightmare. I wonder what Flynn would make of that. The thought is disconcerting, so I ignore it and concentrate on pushing my body to its limits along the bank of the Willamette.

As my feet pound the walkway, sunshine breaks through the clouds and it gives me hope.

Two hours later, I jog back to the hotel I pass a coffee shop. Maybe I should take her for coffee.

 _Like a date?_ Well. No. Not a date. I laugh at the ridiculous thought. Just a chat—an interview of sorts. Then I can find out a little more about this enigmatic woman and if she's interested, or if I'm on a wild-goose chase. I'm alone in the elevator as I stretch out. Finishing my stretches in my hotel suite, I'm centered and calm for the first time since I arrived in Portland. Breakfast has been delivered and I'm famished.

It's not a feeling I tolerate—ever. Sitting down to breakfast in my sweats, I decide to eat before I shower.

.

I pour over the executive summary for the hundredth time since I received it two days ago, looking for some insight into the enigmatic Miss Anastasia Rose Steele. I cannot get the damned woman out of my mind, and it's seriously beginning to piss me off. This past week, during particularly dull meetings, I've found myself replaying the interview in m _y head. Her cockiness, her fingers, the leather cuffs that she had strapped on her wrists – Oh, I could give you a pair to wear it every day, baby!_ – the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the lip biting. Yes. The fucking lip biting gets me every time.

And now, here I am, parked outside the coffee shop where she dashed into a few moments ago, right across the animal shelter on the outskirts of Portland where she volunteers. I still don't get it! Why doesn't she work? Why doesn't she use Clayton's connections to get herself a nice nine to five job where she doesn't have to be around smelly animals that can bite her any fucking moment? The thought makes me uncomfortable. It's not safe here for her.

 _You're a fool, Grey. Why are you here? Elena would laugh in your face if you ever tell her about this._

I knew it would lead to this. All week… I knew I'd have to see her again. I'd known it since she uttered my name in the elevator and disappeared into the depths of my building after that failure of an interview when she almost shrinked me. I'd tried to resist. I've waited five days, five fucking days to see if I'd forget about her. And I don't do waiting. I hate waiting… for anything.

I've never actively pursued a woman before. The women I've had understood what I expected of them. My fear now is that Miss Steele is just too young and that she won't be interested in what I have to offer… will she? Will she even make a good submissive? I shake my head. There's only one way to find out… so here I am, a fucking ass, sitting in a suburban parking lot in a dreary part of Portland.

Her background check came back almost blank. Her step-father, Sir Stephen Clayton, has paid good money to keep everything under wraps, whatever that might be. Welch hasn't been able to find anything odd but John's words keep going round and round in circles inside my head. What the fuck happened to her? And why can't I find out and be done with this already? She should have been a rich, spoiled brat, and I would have been done with this in a heartbeat.

 _But she's not._

She went to a private school in Lille, France, ever since she was seven years old. A little young if you ask me but what the hell do I know about raising a kid? Nothing. She grew up into a beautiful and sophisticated young woman who had everyone wrapped around her little finger. She appeared in fashion magazines, always dressed impeccably and a little more sexy as time went by. She had a very good stylist, that's for sure.

There are pictures of her in tight small bikini bottoms and small bras that only showed how at ease she was in her own skin. Her eyes always bright, always shining and sometimes, looking lovingly at her long-term boyfriend, Nicholas Perry.

They were the golden couple. She was the step-daughter of one of the most influential people on this planet, Sir Stephen Clayton, while he was the son of a famous banker, Mathew Perry. The perfect match. Journalists melted at the sight of them. I turn green just at the thought of Nicholas Perry touching Anastasia.

Then, one day, she disappeared. Into fucking thin air. She was taken and found two months later, in bad shape. Her step-father never made a public announcement regarding her disappearance. The investigation concerning her kidnapping has been closed, due to very little evidence that could help. Anastasia never said a peep about it... a little weird if you ask me. It's like she never went through it, like it never happened. She ran away and never looked back.

However, the look in her eyes tells a different story. Anastasia Rose Steele is battling some inside demons. Far away from home and her step-father's influence (if you don't count his close friendship with the Washington governor), alone in a sea of simple people. No one has any idea who she really is. _The heiress of the Clayton empire!_

I recall the questions she asked during the interview, her way of looking deep within the dark confines of my mind, the way her skin flushed a pale rose… Shit! I've been suffering from these ludicrous thoughts since I met her. I can't get her out of my fucking head and it's driving me up the damn walls!

 _That's why you're here. Put an end to it, Grey!_

I'm itching to see her again — those blue eyes have haunted me, even in my dreams. And that's saying something since my dreams are usually filled with my memories of being hungry and abused. Fuck! I should think about something else unless I want to break into a fucking cold sweat!

 _You've come all this way. Let's see if little Miss Steele is as appealing as you remember. Showtime, Grey!_

I climb out of the car and stroll across the lot to the front door. A bell chimes a flat electronic note as I walk in.

The coffee shop is larger than I originally thought but, thankfully, empty.

It takes me all of three seconds to spot her. She's hunched over her table, staring intently at her beverage and picking at her lunch — a muffin. Unthinking, she wipes a crumb from the corner of her lips and into her mouth and sucks on her finger. My cock twitches in response. _Fuck!_ What am I, fourteen? My reaction is fucking irritating. Maybe this adolescent response will stop if I fetter, fuck, and flog her… and not necessarily in that order. _Yeah. That's what I need._

 _If she'll let you, Grey!_

She is thoroughly absorbed in her task, and it gives me an opportunity to study her. Salacious thoughts aside, she is attractive, seriously attractive. I've remembered her well.

She glances up and freezes, pinning me with intelligent, discerning eyes — the bluest of blue that seem to see right through me. It's as unnerving as the first time I met her. She just stares, shocked I think, and I don't know if this is a good or a bad response.

"Miss Steele. What a pleasant surprise."

"Mr. Grey," she whispers, breathy and flustered. _Ah… a good response_. I think smugly to myself as I allow my eyes to roam over her face, taking in each freckle and eyelash. She really is beautiful.

"I was in the area. It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Steele." A real pleasure. Until I see her arms and wrists and I freeze.

My body is in full lockdown as my eyes roam over the insides of her arms, taking in the purple veins that contrast heavily with her pale smooth skin. There are no recent wounds and no scabs that could indicate just how old the marks are.

 _Track marks._

 _She's a fucking heroin addict!_

I can feel my blood freezing in my veins, but my eyes keep on moving and I see an even more gruesome picture. Her wrists. I can't even begin to imagine how they looked _before_ they healed like this but I suddenly have the urge to puke and I haven't even tasted the coffee from my cup. It looks as if she was restrained with some type of rope. _Or a cable tie._ My mind quips but I'm too stunned to draw my eyes away.

 _What the fuck happened to you, pretty girl?_

I think back to all the pictures from before her kidnapping and I remember her wrists being perfectly normal, no scar or indentation to mark her perfect skin. _They must be from when she was taken._

She tries to hide away her arms and wrists but it's too late. The image is engraved in my mind and will forever remain there. _Too fucking late, baby!_

"Anastasia. My name is Anastasia." She mutters and looks away but we're the only people in this coffee shop, except for the barrista who had been eying me with gusto a few moments ago when I ordered my black coffee. I see the light gray sweater draped on the back of her chair and realize that Anastasia had probably taken it off. The light blue feathers on her white T-shirt are the exact shade as her eyes. _Those eyes._

I take a seat and try to look at something, anything, else other than the marks on her arms and wrists but I'm failing miserably. How could Welch possibly miss this? There has to be some information about what happened. This is the second time I've seen her and she's sober. Frustrated, I look for other signs of drug abuse. Her hair is clean, healthy and shiny. Her complexion is radiant, like she has an inner glow about her. Her eyes are clear and lack the usual glazed look of an addict. She looks good – a little intimidated by my intense stare but good, nonetheless.

"Are you in Portland on business?" She asks, interrupting my thoughts. Her voice is high, like she's been mentally racing to find something that can distract me from my thoughts.

"I was visiting the WSU farming division. It's based at Vancouver. I'm currently funding some research there in crop rotation and soil science." I lie. _Actually I'm here to see you, Miss Steele, but this change of events has me going round in circles._ I keep going back to my conversation with John. _Maybe it is time to break the circle._

But can I break it?

"All part of your feed-the-world plan?" Her lips shift to a half-smile.

"Something like that." I mutter.

I look at her scars once again and then back up into her intense eyes. _Busted!_

She's uncomfortable. I can tell. She wants to leave, her whole body buzzing with energy as if she's ready to bolt and forget all about her meager lunch. I want her to stay. I want to know what the fuck happened to her. I want to know what fucker I have to kill with my own bare hands. _Wait… what?! Where the fuck did that come from?_

"How's the article coming along?" I blurt out before my brain has a chance of catching up with my mouth.

She looks up and gives me a brief relieved smile. Finally. "I'm not writing it, Katherine is. She's very happy with it… or so she claims." Anastasia replies with a slight shrug and avoids eye contact.

I take the opportunity to look at her arms again and a tattoo catches my eye.

 _On ne voit bien qu'avec le coeur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux._

 _Interesting tattoo, Miss Steele… but what does it mean to you?_

"I see… is that your only tattoo?" I ask and gesture towards the cursive white ink that's etched on the inside of her left arm.

"Yes." She replies but makes no move to make eye contact with me. _Great, Grey! You've embarrassed her!_

"What does it stand for?" I ask, hoping to coax some more information about her, some more insight into that intriguing mind. _Since when do you care about a woman's_ mind, _Grey?_

"It's meant to remind me to look deeper and not judge a book by its cover. It's also meant to remind me that underneath a hard exterior, there's always a lost soul that is meant to love and be loved, to grow and learn as many things about the surrounding world as it possibly can. It's meant to remind me that there is a light at the end of the tunnel." She says all of this in one breath and I'm in awe of her. Here she is, the survivor of something gruesome, and she's focusing on the light at the end of the tunnel. _Unlike me._ A wave of shame washes over me but I brush it off quickly. Now is not the time to think about that.

I'm completely mesmerized by the way her lips move, how her eyes light up with a light that makes my chest ache with an unfamiliar feeling... she no longer needs the long sleeved sweater or the leather cuffs. All she needs are those happy memories and the moments behind them and she'd be able to stand the toughest storm. In that moment, she's untouchable. And there goes my proposition to make her my sub. _Fuck!_ I bet she would run for the fucking hills if she ever sees what's in my playroom. Just thinking about the cable ties I have in the drawers brings chills up my spine.

"It's a lovely quote." I trail off, lost in thoughts of that interview and how she turned me inside out with just a few words.

"Thank you. It was the first book I ever read." She replies with a polite smile. _And there's that look in her eyes. That lost look._ Like mine, when I stare at me reflection in the fucking mirror, when I want to punch myself and just _get over it._

"I'm sorry." I blurt out and seek out her eyes. They flash to mine, lips slightly parted and eyebrows furrowed. She's surprised. _That makes two of us, baby!_ It's the first time in a very long time that I've apologized to anyone. And I've done worse than stare at someone's scars. But that's not the only thing that I'm apologizing for. I'm starting to regret my decision to pursue his woman. Her weird background check should have tipped me off that something was wrong. It did. I just chose to ignore it.

"What for?" She asks and I quickly look away from her lips.

"I know it's rude to stare but for someone who had an addict as a parent, I can't really look away." I reply and try my best to stay away from those memories and the pain that would surely follow. She looks at me, questions upon questions in her beautiful eyes. _Those beautiful and sad eyes._ But the sadness goes away and, in the blink of an eye, Anastasia transforms before my eyes. There's a fire in her her eyes, a fire that I've never seen before. They really are beautiful, the color of the ocean at Cabo, the bluest of blue seas. I should take her there.

 _What? Where did that come from?_

"I'm not an addict!" She hisses and, I have to say, I'm a little scared. There's anger behind those words, deeply rooted and powerful.

"I know. Your skin has a healthy, natural glow and your hair is shiny. There are no scabs on your arms, not any other marks that would indicate that you've... _used_ sometime in the near past. Your eyes are bright and clear as they were on Monday. For someone with the marks like the ones you have, you'd have used at least a dozen times since the interview. You're clean." I say and close my mouth, putting an end to the verbal vomit that just happened. _Her look is dangerous._

My words seem to stun her and she looks at odds with herself.

"Eat. Your lunch is growing cold." I say and watch as she picks up her muffin and proceeds to finish it off before my eyes.

The more I look at her, the more intrigued I become.

Miss Steele is a mystery that I can't seem to stay the fuck away from. Every new thing I find out is telling to me staying away from her. She doesn't need me and my darkness. Not after everything she must have gone through. The idea of bringing her to my playroom is out the window. There is no way in hell she could ever submit to me, not after she's been tied like that. I can't even be touched by my own mother after what I've went through as a child. Her scars are much more recent than that. Probably a year or so old. _She'll never consent to be yours!_

"Tell me about your family." I say, wanting more time around her in spite of my decision to stay away from her.

"Um... it's really a long story and my break is kind of over so I have to get back, Mr. Grey." She says and looks a little frightened as she pulls over her sweater, hiding everything away from prying eyes. She looks normal now. She looks like the girl from the interview, ready to take on the world and wouldn't take no for an answer.

And then she's off, leaving me stunned and looking after her as she makes her way across the street and narrowly avoids a cyclist going the wrong way.

 _What the fuck was that?_

Did she just walk away from me?

Definitely not a sub.

 _I need a plan B._

Fast!

I pull out my phone and in two seconds flat, Welch answers.

"I need more information about Anastasia Rose Steele! _NOW!_ "

 _Christian Trevelyan-Grey doesn't fucking wait!_

 _._

 **Monday, May 16, 2011**

In the back of the car I leaf through pages upon pages of quotes, looking for a suitable one, and at the same time wonder when Ana's last exam will take place.

"Mr. Grey," Taylor interrupts. "We're here, sir." He climbs out of the car and opens my door. "I'll be outside at two o'clock to take you to your golf game."

I nod and head into Grey House, the books tucked under my arm. The young receptionist greets me with a flirtatious wave.

 _Every day… Like a cheesy tune on repeat._

Ignoring her, I make my way to the elevator that will take me straight to my floor.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey," Barry on security greets me as he presses the button to summon the elevator.

"How's your son, Barry?"

"Better, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it."

I step into the elevator and it shoots up to the twentieth floor. Andrea is on hand to greet me.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey. Ros wants to see you to discuss the Darfur project. Barney would like a few minutes—"

I hold my hand up to silence her. "Forget those for now. Get me Welch."

"Yes, sir."

"And I need a double espresso. Get Olivia to make it for me."

But looking around I notice that Olivia is absent. It's a relief. The girl is always mooning over me and it's fucking irritating.

"Would you like milk, sir?" Andrea asks.

 _Good girl._ I give her a smile.

"Not today." I do like to keep them guessing how I take my coffee.

"Very good, Mr. Grey." She looks pleased with herself, which she should be. She's the best PA I've had.

Three minutes later she has Welch with her and my coffee.

"Sir, I haven't found anything new."

I hate incompetence. I loathe it. This thing of paying people to do their job and them failing at it miserably does something to me. My time, money and energy is wasted. I hate it. My look must be telling Welch how I feel because he pales before my eyes. I can tell the beads of sweat on his forehead even though I'm a few feet away from his, behind my desk, staring a hole in his head.

"I've tried to hack into Sir Stephen Clayton's servers but I couldn't go too far without being kicked out. The systems reset every three minutes. There has to be some sort of program which generates a new code for everyone and shares it in the internal server. I've tried to access that internal server with a Trojan in an e-mail sent to employees. It didn't work. My e-mail was blocked instantly and the attachment erased as if it was never there. Not to mention the Scotland Yard's servers. Those are impossible to breach without an inside person. I've also tried -"

"Shut up." I say and his mouth shuts instantly. _Good. I need the quiet._ "I'm going to let this one slide. For now. You're free to go."

"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir." He scurries out of my office like a rat running for its life.

I rub my hands over my face. Anastasia Steele has an impenetrable wall around her.

"Andrea."

" _Yes, Sir."_

"I need to send a bouquet of flowers."

The brief moment of silence is grinding on my nerves. Am I surrounded by idiots?!

" _Yes, Sir. May I ask to whom?"_

"Anastasia Rose Steele. I'll e-mail the address. Come pick up the card in 5 minutes."

" _Yes, Sir."_

I lean back in my chair and turn around to watch the Seattle skyline behind me. I've thought about Anastasia for a week now and I'm nowhere near finding anything that could give me the upper hand in this situation. I only have basic contact information and it's only because she studies as WU and I'm funding a lot of crap and the dean owed me some big favours.

I cashed all of those for Anastasia's personal information.

 _How stupid is that?_

Not as stupid as sitting here, rummaging through my brain to find something that can express the weird thoughts going through my brain in this last week.

"Taylor!" I scream and Taylor steps into the room, waiting for instructions.

"Yes, Sir."

"I want a detail on Miss Steele. Make sure she doesn't notice or else there will be hell to pay. Clear?"

"Of course, Sir."

At 12:30 Olivia shuffles into my office with lunch. She's a tall, willowy girl with a pretty face. Sadly, it's always misdirected at me with longing. She's carrying a tray with what I hope is something edible. After a busy morning, I'm starving. She trembles as she puts it on my desk.

Tuna salad. _Okay._ She hasn't fucked this up for once.

She also places three different white cards, all different sizes, with corresponding envelopes on my desk.

"Great," I mutter. _Now go._ She scuttles out.

I take one bite of tuna to assuage my hunger, then reach for my pen. I've chosen a quote.

.

Thank fucking God I had someone follow her!

Just hearing that she drove like a fucking maniac to Portland to see her shrink had me out of my seat in a heartbeat. Was it the flowers? Or was it the quote?

 _Get you head out of your ass, Grey! You're not the center of her universe!_

However, having a detail on her has provided useful information. I now know the name of her shrink: William Hughes.

 _If Welch fails this too, he's fucking fired!_

* * *

 **He just doesn't know when to stop, does he? And well... you know what they say about curiosity ;)  
**

 **So, what do you think of this so far? Let me know :)  
**


	3. Chapter 3

_**"I look inside myself and all I see is black."**_

* * *

CPOV

I've slept well for the first time in five days. Maybe I'm feeling the closure I had hoped for, now that I've sent those flowers to Anastasia. As I shave, the asshole in the mirror stares back at me with cool, gray eyes.

 _Liar._

 _Fuck._

Mrs. Jones looks up when I walk into the kitchen.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey."

"Morning, Gail."

"What would you like for breakfast?"

"I'll have an omelet. Thank you." I sit at the kitchen counter as she prepares my food and leaf

through The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times, then I pore over The Seattle Times. While I'm lost in the papers my phone buzzes.

It's Elliot. What the hell does my big brother want?

"Elliot?"

"Dude. I need to get out of Seattle this weekend. This chick is all over my junk and I've got to get away."

"Your junk?"

"Yeah. You would know if you had any."

I ignore his jibe, and then a devious thought occurs to me. "How about hiking around Portland? We could go this afternoon. Stay down there. Come home Sunday."

"Sounds cool. In the chopper, or do you want to drive?"

"It's a helicopter, Elliot, and I'll drive us down. Come by the office at lunchtime and we'll head out."

"Thanks, bro. I owe you." Elliot hangs up.

Elliot has always had a problem containing himself. As do the women he associates with: whoever the unfortunate girl is, she's just another in a long, long line of his casual liaisons.

"Mr. Grey. What would you like to do for food this weekend?"

"Just prepare something light and leave it in the fridge. I may be back on Saturday."

Or I may not.

 _She didn't give you a second glance, Grey._

Having spent a great deal of my working life managing others' expectations, I should be better at managing my own. I'm not even sure why I keep thinking about her when the mere thought of her scars has my stomach turning and my temper boiling.

Elliot sleeps most of the way to Portland. Poor fucker must be fried. Working and fucking: that's Elliot's raison d'être. He sprawls out in the passenger seat and snores.

Some company he's going to be.

It'll be after three when we arrive in Portland, so I call Andrea on the hands-free.

"Mr. Grey," she answers in two rings.

"Can you have two mountain bikes delivered to The Heathman?"

"For what time, sir?"

"Three."

"The bikes are for you and your brother?"

"Yes."

"Your brother is about six-two?"

"Yes."

"I'll get on it right away."

"Great." I hang up, then call Taylor.

"Mr. Grey," he answers on one ring.

"What time will you be here?"

"I'll check in around nine o'clock tonight."

"Will you bring the R8?"

"With pleasure, sir." Taylor is a car fanatic, too.

"Good." I end the call and turn up the music. Let's see if Elliot can sleep through The Verve.

As we cruise down I-5 my excitement mounts.

Have the flowers been delivered yet? I'm tempted to call Andrea again, but I know I've left her with a ton of work. Besides, I don't want to give my staff an excuse to gossip. I don't normally do this kind of shit.

 _Why did you send them in the first place?_

Because I want to see her again.

 _Why do you want to see her again when you know she can't give you what you crave?_

We pass the exit for Vancouver and I wonder if she's finished her exam.

"Hey, man, where we at?" Elliot blurts.

"Behold, he wakes," I mutter. "We're nearly there. We're going mountain biking."

"We are?"

"Yes."

"Cool. Remember when Dad used to take us?"

"Yep." I shake my head at the memory. My father is a polymath, a real renaissance man: academic, sporting, at ease in the city, more at ease in the great outdoors. He'd embraced three adopted kids… and I'm the one who didn't live up to his expectations.

But before I hit adolescence we had a bond. He'd been my hero. He used to love taking us camping and doing all the outdoor pursuits I now enjoy: sailing, kayaking, biking, we did it all.

Puberty ruined all that for me.

 _Or was that Elena?_

"I figured if we were arriving mid-afternoon, we wouldn't have time for a hike."

"Good thinking."

"So who are you running from?"

"Man, I'm a love-'em-and-leave-'em type. You know that. No strings. I don't know, chicks find out you run your own business and they start getting crazy ideas." He gives me a sideways look. "You've got the right idea keeping your dick to yourself."

"I don't think we're discussing my dick, we're discussing yours, and who's been on the sharp end of it recently."

Elliot snickers. "I've lost count. Anyway, enough of me. How's the stimulating world of commerce and high finance?"

"You really want to know?" I shoot him a glance.

"Nah," he bleats and I laugh at his apathy and lack of eloquence.

"How's the business?" I ask.

"You checking on your investment?"

"Always." It's my job.

"Well, we broke ground on the Spokani Eden project last week and it's on schedule, but then it's only been a week." He shrugs. Beneath his somewhat casual exterior my brother is an eco-warrior. His passion for sustainable living makes for some heated Sunday dinner conversations with the family, and his latest project is an eco-friendly development of low-cost housing north of Seattle.

"I'm hoping to install that new gray-water system I was telling you about. It will mean all the homes will reduce their water usage and their bills by twenty-five percent."

"Impressive."

"I hope so."

We drive in silence into downtown Portland and just as we're pulling into the underground garage at The Heathman, Elliot mutters, "You know we're missing the Mariners game this evening."

"Maybe you can have a night in front of the TV. Give your dick a rest and watch baseball."

"Sounds like a plan."

.

I allow myself a moment to look at her, to admire her from afar, as a mere mortal admires the perfect statue of a goddess.

She's perfection.

 _She could be all yours._

She's wearing a beautiful dress, the color of champagne, which compliments her skin perfectly. The quarter length sleeves hide the track marks and her wrists are hidden by the usual leather cuffs. Knowing what they hide, they no longer hold any appeal to me. Just thinking about the marks on her perfect skin makes me take another big gulp from my drink. If I could get my hands on whoever did this to her... I'd commit murder without a second thought.

 _What the fuck is wrong with you, Grey?_

I keep her in my line of vision constantly even though Elliot is talking my ear off about dancing with some chick he spotted a few minutes ago. Like I'd give a fuck.

"I'll be here." I reply quickly and search for Anastasia once again. I've lost her in this sea of fresh graduates that came to get drunk and party. Looking at them, so carefree and stupid makes me a little melancholic. I never went through this phase. I never graduated from college and my relationship with Carrick will always be strained because of that.

 _Enough thinking about that, Grey! You're not here to relive your past._

I spot her at the bar, scrolling through her phone and avoiding the lingering glances the bartender gives her. Those plump lips purse into a thin line as she smiles as she probably thanks him. What I wouldn't give to bite those lips!

But she's not mine. A relationship with Anastasia Steele seems ludicrous right now. She probably has her own demons and adding mine to the equation could be catastrophic.

 _Then why are you here, Grey? To watch her from the shadows, like a stalker?_

In my moment of inner musings, I lose her once again in the sea of people but I catch her unique fragrance as she walks past my table, with José Rodriguez hot on her heels, looking like she wants to be anywhere else but here. Can't say I don't share the feeling.

In a moment of bravery, I decide to follow her. God knows what she could get into in the deserted parking lot of a bar filled with these idiots. With her track record, I can think of a few things. Not on my watch!

 _So, what? You've turned into Batman now, Grey?_

I'm losing my fucking mind, chasing this girl. What the fuck is wrong with me?

Just when I'm about to turn around, I see José's hands wrapped around her and like the sick fuck I am, I stop and watch. I watch as he cradles her into his arms and she allows him to. I watch as he leans in and whispers into her ear. I watch as he starts peppering kisses along her jaw. My fists clench unconsciously even though I know I have no claim on her. I could never give her small, sweet kisses or hearts and flowers.

 _Then why did you send her the flowers, Grey? Why are you here?_

I have no fucking idea why I've sent her the flowers. It seemed right at the time. Like an attempt at normality, just to see how it would feel. I have to say, it was interesting and a little nerve wracking. Words are always tricky. You never know when the other person takes them the wrong way. Fucking is direct. You know what you want to get and you go for it. No wasted time with words. No wasted time with unnecessary bullshit.

I take one last look at them and turn to walk away but one small movement makes me halt my steps.

Anastasia is pushing the photographer away. Better said, she's _trying_ to push him away because he doesn't seem to be budging. Her movement becomes more frantic with each second that passes as I propel myself forward to stop this from happening.

"José, no." Her tone doesn't escape me but the photographer seems lost in his very own world, excited at the prospect of finally getting what he wants.

For a moment I want to rip his head off. With my hands in tight fists at my side, I march up to them. "I think the lady said no." My voice carries, cold and sinister, in the relative quiet, while I struggle to contain my anger.

The photographer freezes for a second before letting go of Anastasia. I rush to grab her and prevent her fall but my grip is too strong and she is too fragile to hold herself steady. She screams, the noise so sudden and powerful that I almost let her go.

Then she faints.

"Get help, you fucking idiot! Don't just stand there!" I scream at Rodriguez. He snaps out of his stupor and makes a run for the bar. I personally doubt that he'll bring anyone so I do my best to reach for my phone and call Taylor while still holding Anastasia's limp body in my arms.

"Taylor, I need you. Now!"

"Yes, sir!"

A few moments pass, me holding her and clutching her to my chest. It feels so normal, so natural. The fact that she is so near to my chest and could wake up and start trashing around at any time is not scary. And it's not because there are layers of fabric between my skin and her. It's not because I could easily force her to hold still. It's because she looks so peaceful, so _right_ in my arms that I could never think she'd cause me harm.

 _She's the light beacon at the end of the tunnel, Grey._

She is light, indeed.

She looks so peaceful, so beautiful and charming, like a sleeping beauty that I would never dare to wake up, never dare to disturb. My eyes flicker to her lips. _I wonder..._

"Mr. Grey."

A man's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I look at him. Black suit, black hair, a posture that's eerily similar to Taylor's.

"Give her to me, Mr. Grey." The man says calmly. A little too calm. It's pissing me off.

"Why the fuck would I do that?" I hiss and glare at him. Where the fuck is Taylor? He should have been here by now. What's taking him so long?

"Because I am the head of security for Sir Stephen Clayton. My name is Luke Sawyer. I'm here for her, Mr. Grey." He says as he looks at her with a mixture of emotions I can't identify.

"Then where the fuck were you two minutes ago, huh?" I say, trying to hold on to Anastasia. He can't take her away from me. I'll kill him before he lays a finger on her. _But his name does sound_ _familiar..._

"Mr. Grey, give her to me. We have to wake her up."

"No."

"She's not a toy, Grey." He hisses and steps even closer, entering my personal space. There's nothing I can do with her in my arms but there's no fucking way I'm gonna let her go. "I mean her no harm. Trust me."

I bore into his eyes for a few seconds. He doesn't flinch or hide his gaze. _Good sign._ I let him take her from my arms and watch as he sits on the jacket he put on the ground earlier, with Anastasia in his arms.

"Ana, love? Open your eyes. I'm here now, Ana. You are safe. You are safe, _petite fille_." He starts to say, carefully shaking her as though she was made of the finest china. Her beautiful nose scrunches and her eyes start moving beneath her eyelids. "There you are, sweet girl."

Anastasia looks lost as she stares at him, recognition flashing through her eyes a moment later. At the same moment, Taylor appears in my line of view.

"What happened, sir?"

"I want to talk to that photographer." I say, my voice low and full of venom. "Make sure I have an appointment with him tomorrow."

"Very well, sir." Taylor replies and keeps a close eye on Anastasia and Mr. Sawyer.

"Luke… c'est toi?"

The sound of her voice does something to my insides. It fills me up with warmth while also freezing the blood in my veins. Just listening to her small voice is a strong enough evidence that Anastasia Rose Steele has gone through some pretty hard shit once upon a time. She sounds so scared and so fearful.

Luke Sawyer carefully nods and gauges her reaction. She seems torn. Then she starts crying.

 _I'll have his fucking balls!_

"Shhhh… I'm here now, Ana. You are safe, you are safe."

But nothing can stop her from crying. Not Luke Sawyer's words or the way he gently rocks her from side to side. She's inconsolable. She's afraid.

 _Just like you were, Grey._

.

 _His name is Lelliot. He's bigger than me. He laughs. And smiles. And shouts. And talks all_

 _the time. He talks all the time to Mommy and Daddy. He is my brother. Why don't you talk? Lelliot says again and again and again. Are you stupid? Lelliot says again and again and again. I jump on him and smack his face again and again and again. He cries. He cries a lot. I don't cry. I never cry. Mommy is angry with me. I have to sit on the bottom stair. I have to sit for the longest time. But Lelliot never asks me why I don't talk ever again. If I make my hand into a fist he runs away. Lelliot is scared of me._

 _He knows I'm a monster._

.

When I return from my run the next morning, I take a long and scalding hot shower. _It won't wash away your worries, Grey._ I glare at the gray-eyed prick who stares back at me from the mirror as I shave. I can't help but wonder what Anastasia would make of all the voices inside my head, telling me what a fuck-up I am.

 _Grey, snap out of this. Get a grip._

I spent all night tossing and turning. The image of Sawyer sedating her will forever be burned on my mind. I never had to be sedated when I went into an episode, mainly because I was a small child but also because Grace never wanted to take the chance of leaving me alone with my demons in an endless sleep. The thought brings shivers up my spine.

"Good morning, sir."

Taylor's voice snaps me out from my thoughts. I look at him.

There's a new emotion showing on his face this morning: concern. Concern that I'll try to get Anastasia to be my sub. He didn't say it out loud, of course, but I could see it in his eyes. He knows I'm planning something. He also knows that I usually get what I want. _That's a dangerous combination._ But with Luke Sawyer guarding her every move, I doubt the thought of making her my sub would even _cross_ my mind. Though I don't think he could keep her from doing something she wants to do, using her would mean my death sentence.

 _But you don't want to use her, Grey._

What is it that I want from Miss Steele? What keeps on drawing me to her?

Seeing her sedated like that last night... it scared the fuck out of me. It made me think of just how much courage this girl can have to keep pushing past such emotions that sometimes get the best of her and bring to surface such trauma.

I have to find out and the only way to do it is to meticulously work my way through the people close to her. They have to have some sort of clue. They have to know why she is the way she is.

 _Then why did the photographer try to force himself on her?_

The thought makes me ball my hands. Taylor's eyes flicker to them for a nanosecond.

"Mr. Rodriguez is waiting in the living room, sir."

"Good. You're free until I call you back."

He hesitates for a second, looking me in the eye and almost daring me to do something to the little punk but I look blankly back. I don't plan on beating the shit out of him but I do plan on scaring the little shit so that he never comes back near Anastasia unless it's a matter of life or death. Even then, he'll think twice about it.

"Mr. Rodriguez, nice of you to give course to my invitation."

The sound of my voice makes him jump and turn around in record time.

"Mr. Grey." He replies and briefly nods.

My eyes narrow.

"Why don't you take a seat? Anything I can offer you? A drink?"

The mere thought of drinking gives his skin a green tint. _Good!_ The fucker should suffer more than a mere indisposed stomach and a head ache.

"No, thank you."

I raise my eyebrows in mock astonishment.

"You _do_ have manners! And here I thought you didn't, given your actions from last night!" I spit and watch as he recoils into himself. The monsters inside me grin. "After witnessing what I have, I should admit that I had my doubts. I think they're well founded, don't you agree?"

"I'm sorry about that. I was drunk out of my mind and I wasn't thinking."

"Have you told Anastasia these things?" I prompt, feeling no mercy for the little shit.

"No." He says and shakes his head but after a few seconds thinks better of it and stops the movement. I bite back a grin. Hangovers are a bitch. I would know from my early teens.

 _Thank God for Elena!_

"What you did last night was a very stupid thing, Mr. Rodriguez. But I know that you and Miss Steele have been close for almost a year now." I pause, making sure I've got his attention. "Which is why you're here. I made sure she arrived safely home last night but I want information. What happened last night?"

"What's it to you?" He spits, the anger visible in his eyes. "You only gave her a diploma and all of a sudden you're entitled to know fucking everything."

"Watch your tone." I say, my voice with a deadly edge to it.

"Or what? You're right, she's been my friend for almost a year and I care about her more than just a friend but she doesn't feel the same way. I know she doesn't. Last night was a mistake and I'm gonna go to her and crawl for her forgiveness. But I don't have to explain anything to you."

"If I were to go and tell the police..."

"They'd ask her to file a complaint." He says, effectively cutting me off. "If she feels that she has to, she'll file it herself, without your _help._ "

My eyes narrow to slits and my fists clench.

"Don't think I haven't noticed the way you look at her and how she keeps on avoiding you." He continues, unaware that I'm entertaining the idea of strangling him with my bare hands. "You're worse than me, aren't you? At least I finally had the courage to make a move, drunk or not."

"Make a move? I had to take her home sedated, you little shit! She had a panic attack!"

He blanches.

"Yeah! Did it hit home yet? You almost assaulted her in a fucking parking lot, with no one there to intervene and stop you!"

The thought makes my blood boil once again and all clarity flows out the fucking window.

"I thought I could get her to feel something for me, OK?" He screams, frustration getting the better of him. "I'm not fucking perfect and I know I fucked up. But I don't have to answer to you! What do you want? To keep this shit over my head so you can guilt trip me into telling you about her and get an angle? Fuck you!" He hisses, getting in my face, inches away, breathing hard and eyes wild.

"Taylor!" I scream, cutting the fucker off before he has a chance to seal his fate and make me loose my cool.

Like a faithful dog, he comes in the room and with only one look from me, gets the idea.

"Make sure Mr. Rodriguez leaves the premises without further fuss." I hiss as I lock eyes with the man in question.

"You will stay away from her. I'm not gonna say it twice, understood?"

He chooses to keep silent and glare at me as Taylor shows him the way out.

.

 _I have three cars. They go fast across the floor. So fast. One is red. One is green. One is yellow. I like the green one. It's the best. Mommy likes them, too. I like when Mommy plays with the cars and me. The red is her best. Today she sits on the couch staring at the wall. The green car flies into the rug. The red car follows. Then the yellow. Crash! But Mommy doesn't see. I do it again. Crash! But Mommy doesn't see. I aim the green car at her feet. But the green car goes under the couch. I can't reach it. My hand is too big for the gap. Mommy doesn't see. I want my green car. But Mommy stays on the couch staring at the wall. Mommy. My car. She doesn't hear me. Mommy. I pull her hand and she lies back and closes her eyes. Not now, Maggot. Not now, she says. My green car stays under the couch. It's always under the couch. I can see it. But I can't reach it. My green car is fuzzy. Covered in gray fur and dirt. I want it back. But I can't reach it. I can never reach it. My green car is lost. Lost. And I can never play with it again._

.

I blink fast, trying to get rid of that memory.

Following my failure with José Rodriguez, I decide there's nothing to do here and swiftly pack my shit and inform Taylor about the change of plans. He follows my command without a word and quickly makes sure everything is in place for my departure.

 _I need to get out of this city._ I need to get away from Anastasia and these thoughts that seem endless. I need to get the fuck away from José Rodriguez before I strangle him and be done with him and his intuition.

I have Barney's report on his department's graphene tests to read and I can work in peace while my private jet hauls my ass back to Seattle. Peace? I haven't known peace since Miss Steele stepped foot into my office. And something tells me it's not going to change anytime soon.

If my shrink was back from his vacation in England I could call him. His psychobabble shit would stop me feeling this lousy.

 _Grey, she was just a pretty girl._

Perhaps I need a distraction; a new sub, maybe. It's been too long since Susannah. I contemplate calling Elena in the morning. She always finds suitable candidates for me. But the truth is, I don't want anyone new.

 _I want Ana._

Fuck! This is getting out of hand!

I look out the window at the clear blue sky above and white clouds underneath and suppress a sigh. Just a little more and I'll be away from her, from her blue eyes and perfume, from her body heat and inquisitive glances. This pretty girl has me going round in circles and I have to say, at night's events have proved that something has happened to her. Something dark and painful, so painful that she would prefer to be sedated than go through it again.

But Welch didn't find anything. Officially, there was nothing to find! No one could even _think_ that beneath that calm surface lays a tornado. But now that I've seen it, I can't wipe it from my memory. It's committed there, ensuring my torture for as long as my memory will last.

.

I hold my breath as she walks in, a goddess reborn from her own ashes. It seems like years have passed since last night, when she was in her bodyguard's arms, cradled like a child. There's no trace of last night on her beautiful skin or in her clear blue eyes.

 _It's like it never happened. Sound familiar, Grey?_

Wearing a long sleeved white cotton dress and fuck me black pumps, she's the sexy version of Snow White. There's no inch of skin that shouldn't be seen and my skin tingles just to touch her soft curves and feel her in my arms.

I continue my perusal and stop short when I reach her eyes.

They're cold, blank.

"Mr. Grey."

Her soft voice does things to me and her presence makes the air zap around me.

"Miss Steele." I breathe softly, testing the words on my tongue. They seem foreign. After I've seen her at her worst, to call her anything other than Anastasia seems like a crime.

"Thank you, Taylor." I say, curious how it would be to have her alone in this room with me, as she watches my every move and drinks in each word.

As soon as Taylor is out, she walks around and sits on the couch on my right. I can't help but follow her movement, drinking in the way her body moves with each step, how her muscles tense and relax. I almost reach out to touch her silky skin and drink in her fragrance.

"What brings you by, Miss Steele? Your... _friend_ wasn't very specific." I hiss, trying to get out of my head the images of her writhing underneath me.

Her eyes narrow.

"It has come to my attention that you are... interested in my person."

 _What?_ Oh, the flowers. Did she like them?

"I'd say the flowers were a sign of that." I reply, unable to contain my smirk. "Did you like them?" _Because I don't have the slightest idea on how to approach you._

Her back is turned on me. I have to admit, not seeing her eyes makes me even more curious as they seem to be the only gate towards her mind and thoughts.

"You ran a background check on me." She whispers ever so softly as she touches the spines of the books in my library.

 _Fuck my luck!_

"I've been told that your employee, Mr. Welch, did a poor job of covering his tracks." she says and turns back to me, her eyes taking n each detail. I try to make sure my anger but inside I'm fuming! This can't be happening! Welch couldn't have screwed himself so bad!

I stare at Anastasia, feeling a little out my league, to be honest.

 _Have you finally met your match, Grey?_

Her eyes, probing, searching, waiting... are too much. I look away.

 _Look away, hide away, Grey. It's all you've ever fucking done!_

"I have to say, I'm disappointed and sad, Christian Grey."

 _What?_

"Ever since that interview, things like this happen and I really don't know why. I understand that I may have stepped a little out of line when I asked and told you all those things but I think you've surpassed me with flying colors by now."

What the fuck am I supposed to say to that?!

"I... I also wanted to thank you for... the bouquet and for last night. Your fast reaction saved me from a situation I didn't think would ever happen. It was very... convenient that you happened to be in the same location."

Her eyes narrow, the accusation clear as fucking day. She suspects I was there because _she_ was there. _Intelligent as ever._ I add silently as I take her in. She's furious, sad and confused. All because of me.

 _You should have stayed away, Grey! This is all your fault!_

"Well? Say something, dear God! Are you mute? Are you deaf?"

 _Now would be a good time to open your mouth and start apologizing!_

"I'm glad I could stop your friend before it was too late. I'm sorry I couldn't stop him sooner."

 _Is that the best you can come up with after this fuck-up?!_

"You're curious." She notes, looking into my eyes and reading everything there like the back of her hand.

"I'd lie if I'd say no." I reply with a shrug. What would be the point of lying anyway?

"Is that why you ordered the background check on me? Pure curiosity?"

 _No, baby. I wanted to make you my sub._

"I had no idea that Mr. Welch did what he did." I murmur but I can hear the lie in my voice. She won't believe me. She shouldn't. I'm lying through my teeth but what other option do I have besides playing it cool and hoping that she'll let it go?

But Anastasia proves once again that she knows exactly what going through my head and points out the obvious. If I wasn't in such deep shit because of Welch's stupidity, I would find It amusing and entertaining.

But all thoughts of amusement or whatever flow out the window as soon as I sign the NDA. Knowing from personal experience that these type of agreements can only hide heavy shit, I can only stand and watch as the folder slides on the surface at my desk, spilling photos that almost have my knees buckle.

Pictures of a skinny and dirty girl look back at me. Her pupils are so constricted that you can barely see the black and she's in withdrawal. Her arms are a mess of busted veins and hematomas, some of them a mean purple color, some of them have a mellow greenish tint to them. And her wrists… bloody, puss oozing from the circular wounds of the cable ties used to keep them bound to a chair. It's a disgusting scene that challenges even those with a strong stomach.

I take a deep breath and try to center myself as I look at the pictures. The woman before me cannot be the girl in these pictures. It's impossible.

 _Look at her wrists. Does it look impossible?_

"Here is my past, Christian Grey. All of it. Each and every year accounted for. Pictures, medical records, everything you wanted. You've already seen some of it but a big part is not for the public eye. I'm the only one who has all of this so if any part of it comes out, I'll know exactly _who_ leaked it."

The strength behind her words make me nod weakly. My brain is too preoccupied with questions I know she'll never answer. I can't understand why she would let this go, why she would choose to run away than stay and find the fuckers and kill them slowly, as they've tried to do with her.

I want to find them.

I want to find them and skin them alive.

So, in typical Grey fashion, I try to find out what the fuck happened and how I can get my hands on them. But Anastasia resists, pushing back and more, keeping me at a distance when she should tell me all there is to tell. I've signed the NDA, she has no reason to think I would do anything else other than hunt the bastards down and make them regret the day they were born.

I lose it somewhere along the way but instead of fearing me, she pushes back reminding me my place. She reminds me that I'm all talk and no bite when it comes to respect and draws me in like a magnet. I'm drawn to this both fragile and strong woman like I've never thought possible. Her threats make my blood boil but the hurt in her eyes makes my heart clench.

 _Talk about confusing feelings!_

We're two volcanoes, each erupting and spitting fire. She stands up to me in a way I never thought I'd witness during my lifetime. She pushes me away but her mere presence makes me invade her personal space and never leave her side. She screams at me and all I can think about is kissing those delectable lips so I can shut her up and make her stop questioning me.

 _She doesn't have to listen to you, Grey! She's not yours._

"Goodbye, Grey!" Anastasia shouts over her shoulder as she heads towards the elevator, with Taylor in tow, and watches the doors close, hiding her face from me. I watch as though I'm in a trance.

"My. Grey?"

Mrs. Jones's voice snaps me out of it. I look at her.

"Are you all right?"

Am I all right? How in the world can I be all right after this? I've just had a screaming match with Anastasia and all I can think about are those fucking photos waiting for me on my desk! So, no, I'm not all right. I'm a fucking mess.

 _You've been a mess for a long time now, Grey!_

"I'm fine." I reply as calmly as possible and retreat into my office without a backward glance.

I'm anything but fine.

* * *

 **Sooo... you like? :D**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi there, everyone!**

 **Chapter 4 in CPOV now uploaded! Sorry for the long wait but make no mistake, I will not stop updating this story even though I may update it slower than what you are expecting.**

 **Thank you very much for reading, reviewing and letting me know what you guys make of this so far! I appreciate each comment!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **.**

Ch. 4

I needed to get out of the house, out of that fucking cage that seemed to suck the air out of my lungs and the strength from my muscles. I needed to get away from those photos, away from her face, from her wounds, from her despair and hollow eyes.

I need to forget, to erase the images burned forever on my brain, to get back to the person I was two hours ago: controlled, confident, the master of my fucking Universe.

 _It's too late. You already know what you wanted to know._

I got more than I bargained for. Much more than I thought I could get. And I'm starting to regret my decision. Christian fucking Grey regretting his moves. Now that's something new!

I've been trying to cover up the monsters inside me with a blank stare and many hours of overtime to build my empire. All I've ever done was to try and bury my past, run away from it and never remember it. But it all comes rushing back under the cover of night and in the morning when I look at myself, the motherfucker I've turned into. There's no escape when gray eyes look back at me, empty and unflinching.

 _We should thank Elena for this masterpiece._

It was either this or drinking myself into a grave.

I brush away errant thoughts as I step out of the car, on the opposite side of the Heathman. Truth be told, I shouldn't have left in the first place after my run-in with José Rodriguez. I have a speech to deliver in a few days and a few more meetings with the dean but I let my emotions get the best of me. Another first! I don't do emotions, especially when it comes to business. That's how shit gets blurry and blurry lines never lead to success. I needed to put more space between me and Miss Steele and it turned out that fate didn't want it that way. Nor did I, if I'm being honest. There's a deep ache in my bones, calling out to her, calling out to her pain, to her demons.

 _You would make quite the pair..._

I shake my head to dispel the thoughts. I should stay away from her. I'm not the man for her, not before I knew about her secret and definitely not after I found out.

No, I must stay away.

 _Then why do you crave her presence so badly?_

"Sir, your brother is at the Marble Bar. Would you like to join him?"

Normally, I'd say no and continue my way to the suite but the thought that I'd end up researching Anastasia's photos makes me stop dead in my tracks. What's waiting for me in my suite other than work I can't focus on right now?

"Yeah... why not?"

I need to start thinking about anything else other than Anastasia and what better distraction that my brother's latest escapades to keep me entertained for a few hours? His normal life and mundane topics ground me in a way nothing else seems to. In a way, I guess I envy his life and the choices he makes. It's weird to see his normal bachelor life, with girls hanging off his dick, partying, meeting people without the ingrained fear that someone will make a rash decision and clap him on his back or whatever.

However, as soon as I see my brother, Kate Kavanagh steps in and steals him away. Well, not really _away_ but I can see the interest in my brother's eyes and I really don't want to get in the middle of that.

 _There goes my plan..._

I turn around and head for the bar. A glass of anything would be good at keeping emotions away. And there _she_ is, talking to a man, with a smile on her face and a hand on the stem of her glass.

I can't seem to catch a fucking break! I run to Seattle to get away from last night's memories and she comes looking for me. I come back to Portland and here she is, in the same fucking hotel that I'm staying in! What. The. Fuck?

 _She's beautiful, though, isn't she?_

She is, dressed like a Gothic doll, black shoes, black blouse, skin tight, with black lace and a tight bodice. And her make-up, like a beacon forcing you to look into her sapphire eyes. Into the web that is her soul.

 _You still want her, Grey._

Yeah, I want her. But I'm also learning that what I want and what I should get are not always the same thing. The selfish part of me would still want her panting beneath me but the realistic part of me knows that it won't happen. I'm willing to bet she hates me right now, for bringing up a past that should have stayed in the past, for making her think about things that should have stayed buried. I pushed and I got what I wanted. I found out what she had been hiding.

 _But at what price?_

I don't know why I'm so attracted to her, like a moth to the flame. There's something about her that pulls me in. But I'm not the man for her. I'm not the man for her.

 _So you keep saying Grey. But why are you still looking at her?_

Unable to control myself, I leave the hotel and stay in my car, just across the street.

 _You want to see..._

Yes, I want to see if she'll leave with the man. If she'll use anyone the way I've been using everyone. But Anastasia surprises me when she leaves with a small smile on her lips, Luke Sawyer in tow, making sure no one gets too close to her. The fucker has her back, gotta admit.

Weird or not, I find myself thinking the same thing: no one should get too close. Not even me. Bitterness sweeps through my veins and my fists clench.

Yes, I should stay away. That's exactly what I'll do.

.

"So now that you know, you'll stay away?"

Flynn's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

Standing in front of a laptop and sharing shit with Flynn is not how I'd planned my morning. The fucker hasn't come back from London yet and I couldn't stay another moment like this: all over the place with no plan or control over the situation.

"Yes."

Even I can hear the doubt in my voice but Flynn only raises an eyebrow and keeps silent.

"You're not curious in the slightest about her?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"She's your female counterpart, isn't she? The female version of all you've ever done: running away from your issues, facing them the best way you knew, pretending your decisions were your alone and no influence was ever... suggested, running away from anyone who could have been there. But there's one thing that she hasn't done yet: she hasn't had a Dom. It's the last step to her becoming."

"You're wrong." I growl, unable to stop the image from appearing before me. Anastasia, at someone's feet, head bowed. My fists clench.

 _No._

"Really? Let's see. She's not in London anymore but on another continent, forging from scratch a life that's nothing more than a shadow of what she first intended. She's seeing a doctor but there's only so much someone from the outside can help when the _inside_ is set on a destructive path. Her decisions and actions are closely monitored, mostly for her own good but also because she's not trusted at this point to make a decision on her own regarding the future. She's pushed everyone away, anyone that could bring the past in the front row. All she needs now is a Dom to... guide her."

"Guide her towards what?" I find myself asking, even though every cell in my body is screaming at me to stay away from this discussion.

"Towards greater heights or the depths of her personal hell."

His answer leaves me speechless.

"In which one of these two categories do you find yourself, Christian?"

 _You know it's the second, Grey._

"Why are you telling me this? What she does or doesn't do with her life is not my business."

"You've only come to that conclusion only after you've pieced the puzzle together. It's a bit... convenient, don't you think? You've gotten what you wanted so now you're free to go about your business. Or are you?"

I'm not. I'm still thinking about it. I'm still discussing it with my doctor.

"You claim Elena has been of great help. Yet, there are times when you refer to her as someone who has sunken her claws into you. There are times when you can't stand the mere sight of her. The mere thought that your mother could find out has you blanching. Why is that? Do you see yourself within her or do you see her within you?"

"What does this have to do with anything?"

The moment my question leaves my lips, I already know the answer. Everything has to do with it. Everything has to do with Elena and now it's coming back, full force. I hate her and I'm in great debt towards her.

 _I'm here because of her._

No, I'm here because of _me._ Because of my judgment. Because of everything I've worked for.

 _But without her guidance, I'd be nothing more than another alcohol driven idiot._

"Your attitude towards Elena Lincoln is ambivalent, despite our discussions, despite you knowing what I believe she did to you. Yet, you keep looking at her as though she's your savior. Anastasia Rose Steele is not a wounded little animal, Christian. You can't be her savior anymore than I can be yours."

"I don't _want_ to be her savior."

"Then what is the end goal of finding out everything there was to know even after you saw her scars? What do you want, Christian?"

Now that's a good question. What do I want? Why am I still thinking about her when it's glaringly obvious that we would never be a match? But, then again, I haven't been a match with 16 women before her.

 _What do I want?_

I want to erase these memories from my mind and forget I've ever met her, forget the way she smells, forget the way she looked at me, forget the way she felt in my arms, forget the terror in her eyes. At the same time, though, I think about her almost all the time. She occupies my mind like no one before her. There's something tugging at my insides, telling me that I shouldn't rush to push her memory aside. She draws me in like nothing ever before her.

 _There's no one else like her._

Anastasia's bravery, her strength... it leaves me in awe of her.

"I think I'd like to pursue her."

Flynn's eyebrows rise into his hairline.

"And just how do you intend to do that?"

"I'll prove to her that I'm worthy of her trust and maybe... maybe I'm worthy of a chance as well."

Flynn smiles but it doesn't reach his eyes. There's doubt there.

"Have you told Elena about Anastasia?"

"No." _Not if I can avoid it._ "Elena has nothing to do with this and it'll stay that way."

"Why not?"

I suppress a groan. Once in a while we always come back to this point.

"You're delaying the inevitable. What will happen when Elena sees that she no longer has you in her sphere of influence?"

I think back to her e-mail from today when she was asking me about my prolonged stay in Portland. I could have told her it wasn't about business but I chose to lie and say that it was. I chose to keep it away from her.

"Elena knows she's not my Domme anymore. She hasn't been in a long time now."

"Yet, she chose all of your 15 submissives." He continues, taunting me.

"We are _friends_." I reply, stressing the word friends as though my life depended on it.

"Anastasia doesn't have your _friend's_ stamp of approval. How will that work? You'll keep them away from each other in hopes that they never meet?"

"Yes."

"The truth always comes out, Christian. And the truth is the best foundation for whatever relationship you have in mind. Anastasia has given you her truth, her past. Yet, all you think of is to deceive her."

"So what? Should I go to her and bear my heart out? It'll take her one second to turn her back on me and never look back."

"So you want her to look at you and always know in the back of your mind that you're hiding things from her?"

I keep silent.

"You owe it to yourself to stop this circle of lies. You said it yourself that the BDSM no longer holds any appeal to you. Whether you want to admit it or not, that secret has done you much more evil than good. Now that you're set on putting it behind you, you're not really changing anything. You're exchanging a lie for another lie."

.

Graduation day has me nervous and on edge. It's my chance to talk to her and sort this out. I need to speak to her, to apologize for this shit I've done and hope she can put it behind her. The last thing I need is for Stephen Clayton to have more reasons to hunt down my ass than he already has.

 _Who are you kidding, Grey? You want to see her again. You're drawn to her, like a moth to the flame._

I grit my teeth and adjust my tie once again. From my seat, I can see her clearly and, judging by the daggers Anastasia's throwing my way, I'm not the only one with a clear view.

Katherine's speech is a breath of fresh air, if I do say so myself. She's taking the boring speech of _What Nest After College_ to new and interesting heights and I have to say, she's managed to get the attention of everyone in here, myself included. As she ends her speech, the crowd erupts with a mix of cheering and applause. Anastasia seems to be her biggest fan if it were to judge by her cheering.

Seeing her like this makes me nostalgic about my years in college. I never finished my studies at Harvard, partly because I was bored out of my mind and partly because I wanted to prove everyone that there was more to me than a bastard, the son of a whore.

 _And now that you've done that and your presence here is the proof, how does it feel?_

Lonely. It feels lonely.

I hear my name announced; the chancellor has introduced me. I rise and approach the lectern.

 _Showtime, Grey._

"I'm profoundly grateful and touched by the great compliment accorded to me by the authorities of WSU today. It offers me a rare opportunity to talk about the impressive work of the environmental sciences department here at the university. Our aim is to develop viable and ecologically sustainable methods of farming for third world countries; our ultimate goal is to help eradicate hunger and poverty across the globe. Over a billion people, mainly in sub-Saharan Africa, South Asia, and Latin America, live in abject poverty. Agricultural dysfunction is rife within these parts of the world, and the result is ecological and social destruction. I have known what it's like to be profoundly hungry. This is a very personal journey for me.

"As partners, WSU and GEH have made tremendous progress in soil fertility and arable technology. We are pioneering low-input systems in developing countries, and our test sites have increased crop yields up to thirty percent per hectare. WSU has been instrumental in this fantastic achievement. And GEH is proud of those students who join us through internships to work at our test sites in Africa. The work they do there benefits the local communities and the students themselves. Together we can fight hunger and the abject poverty that blights these regions.

"But in this age of technological evolution, as the first world races ahead, widening the gap between the haves and the have-nots, it's vital to remember that we must not squander the world's finite resources. These resources are for all humanity, and we need to harness them, find ways of renewing them, and develop new solutions to feed our overpopulated planet.

"As I've said, the work that GEH and WSU are doing together will provide solutions, and it's our job to get the message out there. It's through GEH's telecommunications division that we intend to supply information and education to the developing world. I'm proud to say that we're making impressive progress in solar technology, battery life, and wireless distribution that will bring the Internet to the remotest parts of the world—and our goal is to make it free to users at the point of delivery. Access to education and information, which we take for granted here, is the crucial component for ending poverty in these developing regions.

"We're lucky. We're all privileged here. Some more than others, and I include myself in that category. We have a moral obligation to offer those less fortunate a decent life that's healthy, secure, and well nourished, with access to more of the resources that we all enjoy here.

"I'll leave you with a quote that has always resonated with me. And I'm paraphrasing a Native American saying: 'Only when the last leaf has fallen, the last tree has died, and the last fish been caught will we realize that we cannot eat money.' "

As I sit down to rousing applause, I resist looking at Anastasia and examine the WSU banner hanging at the back of the auditorium. If she wants to ignore me, fine. Two can play at that game.

The vice chancellor rises to commence handing out the degrees. And so begins the agonizing wait until we reach the S's and I can see her again.

After an eternity I hear her name called: "Anastasia Steele." A ripple of applause, and she's walking toward me looking as though she's rather be anywhere except _here_.

 _With god reason, Grey._

 _Shit._

 _What is she thinking?_

 _Hold it together, Grey._

"Congratulations, Miss Steele," I say as I give Anastasia her degree. We shake hands, but I don't let hers go. "I want to talk to you, Anastasia." I say softly, aware of the fact that no one should hear to brief conversation with her.

She frowns. _Shit!_ Won't she at least hear me out?

She doesn't. I keep trying to get her attention, keep trying to get her alone so I can speak to her but she's doing everything in her power to stay away from me.

"If she tells you to stay away, you _will_ stay away, Mr. Grey."

Let me tell you something, Luke Sawyer is a scary man when he wants to be. I grit my teeth and watch as she puts more distance between us without looking behind her.

"I only want to speak to her, that's all."

"She denied your request. Multiple times if I'm not mistaken."

"I have to speak to her." I hiss and try to keep my voice even. No need to cause a scene here. The press would have a fucking field day.

"For what? So you can clean your conscience – if you have one – and make her think about that again? Just how self-centered can you get, Mr. Grey? How far do you have to go until you see that your presence here isn't doing her any favors?"

"I won't stop until I speak with her. I can do it here or at her apartment. I don't give a shit as long as I get to talk to her. That's all I'm asking. Five minutes. Can you do that?"

"What makes you think it's up to me?"

"You're the person guarding her."

Luke Sawyer looks at a loss of words for a few seconds before laughing, drawing the attention of a few nearby people.

"You really have no idea, do you? You think I'm here as a loyal dog to keep you away from her? Think again. I've known Anastasia since she was ten years old and there hasn't been a moment in my life when I've done something she didn't want me to do. She calls all the shots here."

"Then why are you here after you found out about the background check?"

Sawyer snorts.

"You believe you're the center of the Universe, don't you?"

I glare at him.

"Contrary to popular belief, I'm not here because you're circling her like a dog. I'm here because the press will be knocking at her door any day now. Surely you must know how that feels."

"The press? What about her kidnapper or kidnappers? Her case is not solved."

Sawyer grinds his teeth and keeps quiet.

"Be at her apartment later today. But, if she tells you to back away, you back away. Got it?"

I nod.

.

Seeing her with Ethan Kavanagh is like a punch in the gut. The worst thing is that I can't compete with that. I can't compete with someone who makes her feel at ease in her own skin, who makes her laugh like that and makes her forget. My presence can only bring back memories from a dark place in her past. The thought makes me ball my hands into fists.

However, all playful behavior is thrown out the window as Raymond Steele utters the magic words.

"Your mother called me."

Anastasia transforms before my eyes. From easy going to rigid and cold.

"I don't care."

Her voice has none of the usual warmth and Luke Sawyer has also taken note of this. He shares a look with her father but Raymond looks like he's not done yet. I wonder what this is about and make a mental note to make Welch dig deeper into Carla's past. Maybe it has something to do with her kidnapping.

"Ana..."

"No! I have nothing to say to her. And you should stay away from her if you know what's good for you." Even I don't miss the subtle warning in her voice as she utters the words through clenched teeth.

"She just wanted to know how you were." Her father says, obviously trying to make Anastasia change her mind. Even I know that won't work. Her eyes narrow.

"She probably wanted to know if I have any money to give her. I don't. And even if I did, I wouldn't give her a cent." She spits, drowning the rest of her glass in one gulp, cringing as it slides down her throat.

A minute later, I signal Taylor and we make our way to the car.

"We're staying here for a few more hours. I want to visit Anastasia in a couple of hours."

"Yes, Sir."

.

 **So, what do you think? Looking forward to your comments! ;)**


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi.**

 **An early Christmas gift!**

 **Hope you enjoy it!**

CH. 5

I'm seated at a table with Whelan, my banker. I'm his guest at a charity function for a nonprofit that aims to raise awareness of global poverty. I appreciate the initiative but I'd rather make a more hefty donation and not show my face around here. This feeling of wasted time is not something I'd appreciate on any other occasion, especially now. I've got shit to do and being here is keeping me away from what I really want to do: read Carla's background check.

"Glad you could make it." Whelan says.

"It's a good cause." I reply absently as I try to focus on anything else except the women throwing bedroom eyes in my direction.

"And thank you for your generous contribution, Mr. Grey." His wife is cloying, thrusting her perfect, surgically enhanced breasts in my direction. I fight the urge to get up from the table and never look back.

"Like I said, it's a good cause." I give her a patronizing smile.

I look around the table at all the middle-aged men with their second or third trophy wives. _God forbid this should ever be me._ I think as a small shiver runs down my spine. The thought of ending-up like this is sobering. I really can't picture myself being in their places,

 _What else do you think you'll be doing, Grey? Enjoying the laugh of your children? The children of a bastard?_

I do my best to banish the thoughts and focus on whatever interesting around here. I'm bored. Seriously bored and seriously pissed. _Pissed at myself, mostly._ My tactic to get Anastasia to talk to me and tell me once and for all who took her backfired.

Seeing the type of people she was raised among answers a few questions. Like the reasons why she's so secretive and hard to talk to. Why she prefers to keep to herself and limits the number of friends she has around her. Why she chose to leave behind the only life she knew. If these were the only type of people I knew, I'd also leave everything behind without a backwards glance.

One more fucking hour and I'm out of here. I adjust my bow tie for what must be the millionth time.

 _Breathe, Grey._

One hour and a half later, I stare out my window toward the dark waters of the Sound. Why did I volunteer to pick-up Mia? I could do a lot of work and badger Welch some more about that background check I've ordered. Apparently, everything connected to the Clayton name is fucking hard to get to. Including his ex-wife.

I wander around my apartment, my footsteps echoing through the living room, and it seems achingly empty since I was last here. I undo my bow tie. Perhaps it's me that's empty. I pour myself an Armagnac and stare back out at the Seattle skyline toward the Sound.

If I close my eyes and focus, I can almost hear her voice, filling the room with energy and sound, unlike the silence that usually rules this house. Even with all the paintings and all other valuables, it's cold and uninviting. Not that I've tried to make it any other way. I don't live here. I merely _inhabit_ this place. This is a part of my empire.

 _Your vast, lonely and empty empire, Grey. Just the way you wanted it._

Why am I questioning everything now? What makes her presence so important in my life? Is it the almost identical coping mechanism? Is it the loneliness? Is it the fact that at least she's _trying_? Is she succeeding, though? What is underneath that hard exterior and sassy attitude? Is she doing as good as everyone thinks she is?

 _I guess I'll have to wait and see._

With that thought in mind, I toss down the rest of the Armagnac and go to bed. My nightmares are waiting.

.

"Christian!" Mia squeals with delight and runs toward me, abandoning her cartload of luggage. Throwing her arms around my neck, she hugs me tightly.

"I've missed you," she says.

"I've missed you, too." I give her a squeeze in return. She leans back and examines me with intense dark green eyes. Looking at her reminds me of Anastasia.

"You look good," she gushes. "Tell me what I've missed!"

"Let's get you and your luggage home first." I grab her cart, which weighs a ton, and together we head out of the airport terminal toward the parking lot, where Taylor is waiting.

"So how was Paris? You appear to have brought most of it home with you."

"C'est incroyable!" she exclaims. "Floubert, on the other hand, was a bastard. Jesus. He was a horrible man. A crap teacher but a good chef."

"Does that mean you're cooking this evening?"

"Oh, I was hoping Mom would cook."

Mia proceeds to talk nonstop about Paris: her tiny room, the plumbing, Sacré-Coeur, Montmartre, Parisians, coffee, red wine, cheese, fashion, shopping. But mainly about fashion and shopping. And I thought she went to Paris to learn to cook.

I've missed her chatter; it's soothing and welcome. She is the only person I know who doesn't make me feel… different. As I think back to our first encounter, I can't help but smile.

.

" _This is your baby sister, Christian. Her name is Mia."_

 _Mommy lets me hold her. She is very small. With black, black hair._

 _She smiles. She has no teeth. I stick out my tongue. She has a bubbly laugh._

 _Mommy lets me hold the baby again. Her name is Mia._

 _I make her laugh. I hold her and hold her. She is safe when I hold her._

 _Elliot is not interested in Mia. She dribbles and cries._

 _And he wrinkles his nose when she does a poop._

 _When Mia is crying Elliot ignores her. I hold her and hold her and she stops._

 _She falls asleep in my arms._

" _Mee a," I whisper._

" _What did you say?" Mommy asks, and her face is white like chalk._

" _Mee a."_

" _Yes. Yes. Darling boy. Mia. Her name is Mia."_

 _And Mommy starts to cry with happy, happy tears._

.

Seeing Anastasia in front of my parent's house is the last thing I would have ever expected to happen today. She's glorious. The sun makes her skin glow and her hair seem like liquid silk. And those rosy cheeks... her head thrown back as she laughs. I'm curios how she looks with her head thrown back in ecstasy...

 _Snap out of it, Grey!_

"What's so funny?"

The laughter dies down and Anastasia freezes for a second before she turns her attention to me. Once again, I find myself caught in her eyes. Those eyes that can see right through me and my shadows. We look at each other for what seems like a lifetime and only Mia's voice snaps me out of my stupor.

"Mom!"

I watch as she takes in the scene before her, my sister becoming the center of attention in a matter of moments. Anastasia smiles, a fond look in her eyes as she looks at my family. Idly, I wonder if she ever got those moments with her family. I know I haven't as it would involve touching. But, as the minutes pass, Anastasia's smile fades until a distant look settles on her beautiful face.

"Hi, I'm Mia!"

A polite smile settles on Anastasia's lips.

"Hello. I'm Anastasia. And... I'm leaving. It was nice meeting you all."

My mother and Mia share a look as Anastasia peels off the driveway without saying anything else. They both turn towards Elliot. He shrugs.

"I don't know what happened there. Don't look at me, we had fun while driving here. Turns out, she lives in Bellevue."

Elliot then throws me a glare, correctly assuming that I am the reason why Anastasia left as quickly as possible. Needless to say, after my argument with him about Katherine, we have been a lot less close than usual. I still think she isn't a good match for him. He still thinks I'm wrong.

 _I guess you can say we've agreed to disagree._

"Where is Dad?" Mia is in full pout. The only person missing and she's focusing on that. My parents' housekeeper— she's an exchange student and I can't remember her name – takes the lighter luggage as Taylor shoulders the heavy suitcases. "Welcome home," she says to Mia in her stilted English, though she's looking at me with big cow eyes.

 _Oh, God. It's just a pretty face, sweetheart._

Ignoring the housekeeper, I address Mia's question. "I think Dad is at a conference. You did come home a week early."

"I couldn't stand Floubert another minute. I had to get out while I could. Oh, I bought you a present." She grabs one of her cases, opens it up in the hallway, and starts rummaging through it.

"Ah!" She hands me a heavy square box. "Open it," she urges, beaming at me. She is an unstoppable force once she sets her mind on something so I comply without even trying to sneak my way out of it. Warily I open the box, and inside I find a snow globe containing a black grand piano covered in glitter. It's the kitschiest thing I've ever seen but nonetheless, I love it.

"It's a music box. Here—" She takes it from me, gives it a good shake, and winds a small key on the bottom. A twinkly version of "La Marseillaise" starts to play in a cloud of colored glitter.

What am I going to do with this? I laugh, because it's so Mia. "That's great, Mia. Thank you." I give her a hug and she hugs me back.

"I knew it would make you laugh."

She's right. She knows me well.

"So, Mom, was that Elliot's girlfriend?" Mia whispers conspiratorially but loud enough for all of us to hear. Unfortunately, Elliot is outside, talking on the phone.

"I thought so too but no. Katherine is his girlfriend. Anastasia is her friend."

"She looks awfully familiar, though." Mia says, her brows furrowed in concentration.

"She's British. Sir Stephen Clayton is her step-father." I quip as I take a seat on the comfortable sofa in the living room.

"Yes! Anastasia Rose Steele. I knew I saw her before! The magazine... what was it called? Oh, yes! Marie Claire!" Mia exclaims as though she's solved a very difficult puzzle.

She's definitely got Grace's attention.

"Really?" Mom asks as she sits down and takes a sip of her afternoon coffee.

"Yes. She was really famous in the UK and also France. But then she was taken..."

"Oh my!" Grace exclaims and sets down her cup daintily. "Poor girl. Well, at least that explains why she froze when I hugged her."

 _What?_

"They found her almost three months later, looking like hell."

 _How does Mia know all these details?_

"Where did you hear that?" I ask, unable to keep my mouth shut any longer.

"It was all over the news. Someone broke into her hospital room and took pictures. They were gruesome. Her arms were -"

"I think we've heard enough of that." Grace says, effectively shutting up Mia before she has the chance to finish her sentence. "Gossiping about the poor girl's fate is very ill mannered."

Mia rolls her eyes playfully and throws me a smile.

"Of course, Mom."

Once that conversation's done, I tell them that I have an appointment with my trainer. "I'll be back this evening." Quickly kissing them both, I leave before I'm tempted to ask Mia for more information and out myself. I would never get rid of Mia if she's ever to catch wind of my interest in Anastasia.

.

As I flip open my laptop to start work, my phone rings. Disappointingly, it's Elena.

 _Was I supposed to call her?_ Do I even want to speak to her?

Flynn's voice echoes in my mind. _Do you see yourself within her or do you see her within you?_

I press the green button and accept the call.

"Hello, Christian. How are you?"

"Good, thanks."

"You're back from Portland?"

"Yes."

"Fancy dinner tonight?"

"Not tonight. Mia's just in from Paris and I've been ordered home."

"Ah. By Mama Grey. How is she?"

"Mama Grey? She's good. I think. Why? What do you know that I don't?"

"I was just asking, Christian. Don't be so touchy."

"I'll call you next week. Maybe we can do dinner then."

"Good. You've been off the radar for a while. And I've met a woman who I think might meet your needs."

 _Have you told Elena about Anastasia?_

I ignore her comment. "I'll see you next week. Good-bye."

 _You're a coward, Grey!_

As I shower I wonder if having to chase Anastasia has made her more interesting… or is it Ana herself?

.

Finding out where she lives was easier than I thought. All I had to do was look into Clayton's properties in Bellevue and there it was! A beautiful house, surrounded by trees and greenery. The perfect place for Anastasia to mend herself back.

"Sir, we have reached the destination."

"Wait here."

I make my way to the main entrance with determined steps. A woman who can't be older than forty opens the door and stares at me, locking eyes with Taylor over my shoulder. Her eyebrows rise in silent questioning. I clear my throat awkwardly.

"I'm Christian Grey. Is Anastasia home?"

I do my best to look calm and collected but even I can hear the slight tremor in my voice.

"This way, Mr. Grey." She says a beat later, seeming at odds with herself whether to allow me entrance or not. I can't help but wonder what that is about.

The living room is filled with muted light from outside and also with all kinds of random objects that one buys while going on holiday in exotic places. A black baby grand is off to my left but that's the only black the room contains. All other colors are vibrant, almost making the room seem alive. _Fitting._

"I shall let her know. Please wait here."

I nod but she doesn't wait for my reply and heads straight ahead without a backwards glance.

With small and inconspicuous glances, I see all the CCTV cameras in almost every corner of the room. This notion calms me down a little. It's good to know her safety is taken seriously, especially during times when Luke Sawyer isn't here.

"This way, please."

The maid's voice snaps me out of my thoughts and I nod. She leads me outside where I come face to face with Anastasia. My jaw hits the floor. She's... sexy doesn't even _begin_ to cover it. A black one piece with a plunging neckline, that covers everything that needs covering and leaves uncovered everything else, tied around her delicate neck ensures that she'll star in many of my fantasies. Not that she hasn't already.

She quickly slips on a silk bathrobe and crosses her arms.

"Hello, Anastasia."

Why was I here again? Oh, yes, to apologize for my behavior. It isn't really turning out the way I wanted it to turn and it's because of the goddess standing in front of me, fire blazing in her eyes as she looks at me.

"Hello."

Her detached and cold voice is like a bucket of iced water on my libido. I really have messed things up with her, haven't I? Not that I know any better now.

I don't really know why I'm here. I don't know why I keep looking for her, wanting to share the same space with her, why I keep thinking about her and her own demons. I'm drawn to her and it has nothing to do with lust. Sure, I want her as much as the other guy and seeing her in this swimsuit isn't doing me any favors but there's more to Anastasia than her killer body.

 _But what is it, Grey? You should stay the fuck away from her!_

"You make a habit of dropping by without prior arrangements?"

"I'm sorry. Does it bother you?" I reply softly, not knowing how to approach her.

I _should_ have contacted her or her bodyguard but that would have meant more time for her to prepare for this meeting, more time to build walls I can't climb. And if I'm being honest with myself, I didn't even know that I was gonna come here until I asked Taylor.

"Yes. It does."

 _Oh, baby! What have they done to you?_

I take a step forward, afraid that she'll run like a scared animal.

 _Anastasia Rose Steele is not a wounded little animal, Christian. You can't be her savior anymore than I can be yours._

"For me to accept your apologies, they'd have to be sincere." She whispers as her eyes remain locked with mine. Her eyes darken as her mouth presses, as though she's trying to reign in her words.

"I apologize for everything and I mean it, Anastasia. I didn't mean to bring something so painful back from your past. I didn't know. I still don't know but that doesn't matter anymore. If finding out what happened is going to bring back even more painful memories from your past, then I don't want to know. But I want to know _you._ "

And I do. I _do_ want to know her. I want to know how she managed to survive and get herself out of that dark place. I want to know the story behind the scars etched upon her skin but I know now that it's really not my business. I need to stay away from that topic. And I will. _I swear I will._

"Why are you here?" She breathes out and watches me closely, ready to bolt at any sudden move.

"I came here because I wanted, _needed_ , to see you." _Other than that, I have no fucking idea._

"You're worse than a stalker." She says and rolls her eyes.

A month ago, that little stunt would have earned anyone a good hiding. Right now, though, I'm amused. I chuckle.

"I suppose you're right." I acquiescence with a shrug. I'm starting to come to terms with the fact that I'm never gonna be the same man I was before I met her. She's challenging and _changing_ me with every word she says.

"You should see a shrink."

"I am."

"You should ask for a second opinion."

"He is the second opinion." I reply with a grin. Flynn would have a fucking field day to hear her talk to me like this. It's oddly... _refreshing._

"You should listen to your shrink."

 _Don't I know it, baby._

"I'll do my best." I reply and almost cross my heart.

"We both know that's not nearly enough."

Her words almost knock the breath from my lungs. _Therapy only works when we have a genuine desire to know ourselves as we are. Not as we would like to be._ She hit the proverbial nail on the head. Flynn would be in awe of her. _So are you, Grey!_

"You're right."

She huffs, a bit of sadness making its way through, and takes a seat on the chaise lounge next to me. Her eyes never leave mine. _Someone means business._

"Why are you _really_ here?"

"Anastasia..."

I bite back a groan. I have no fucking idea why I'm here and I'm really pissed because of this. I always have a plan. I _always_ know what I want and how to get it. Not knowing shit is not my style. I raise from my seat and she follows suite, putting a few feet between us.

"There's something about you, Anastasia. I can't stay away from you even though I know I should. I'm attracted to you. And it's something I have never felt before." I say honestly because honesty is the only thing I can offer right now. No more pretense. No more lies or half truths.

"What happened to the usual dinner and movie?"

I can't help but laugh. It feels too fucking good to laugh.

"You're right. I've been doing this all wrong, haven't I? I'm a little twisted like that." I say with a dark chuckle. _A little_ is a fucking understatement. I've never had to pursue a woman but that's not something she knows. _And it needs to stay that way, Grey!_

"I think you're more twisted than you let on, Mr. Grey. But you're in luck. I'm not exactly the textbook definition of _normal_." She says and giggles. The sound has my heart beating out of my chest and I take a few steps in her direction. _She's like a magnet._

"That's a lovely sound." I breathe, my eyes locking with hers. "Can I kiss you, Anastasia?" I ask a few moments later. The urge to touch her, to have her, is too strong. Her presence is like a drug.

I can see her inner battle but as her eyes darken, I know I have my answer.

I slowly lean in, capturing her lips. They are as soft as I've imagined them so many times, her breath filled with unspoken promises. She's frozen to the spot but as long as she's not pushing me away, I think I'm safe. As soon as she starts kissing me back, I lose whatever control I had and start devouring her sweet mouth. She's nothing like I've tasted before and I think I'm gonna be addicted to her.

However, as soon as I grab her head to tilt it back and have better access, her breathing changes and she pushes at my chest frantically. I'm taken by surprise and it takes me a few seconds to get over my shock. _It didn't burn._ I release her immediately and watch as her demons swallow her. She's looking at me, unable to draw breath into her lungs and scratching at her neck as though something's tied to it, keeping her from breathing. _Fucking hell._ I watch as she's on her knees, a hollow look in her eyes as she's doing her best to breathe but fails.

 _Think, Grey! Fucking think!_

In two seconds flat, I'm also on my knees, next to her.

"Breathe, Anastasia. Deep breaths." I whisper, having no fucking idea what I'm supposed to do. I haven't had a panic attack in so long that I've completely forgotten how to get myself out of one. _Think!_

Of course, seeing that I can't do shit doesn't do me any favors and I lose it there for a moment but I get my shit together quickly. The last thing she needs is me beating myself up. Okay. You've got this, Grey. Focus! She can't breathe so we're gonna focus on that first.

"Shit! I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scream. It's okay. Just try to breathe. You're okay. You're safe. You're safe."

Her breathing changes a fraction and I take that as a good sign. _Okay. Let's keep going that._

"No one's here, sweet girl. It's just you and me. You're safe. Take deep breaths. In. Out. That's it, Anastasia. Keep breathing. Deep breaths. That's it. Deep breaths." I say and breathe in the same rhythm she does for what seems like hours, until she regains control over her body.

She looks exhausted.

"Can I hold you?"

Anastasia takes a few moments to ponder on my offer but eventually she nods slowly and that's all I need. I take her in my arms, scared out of my fucking mind that something like this can happen to her because of a touch like that. It makes my black heart break for her a little more. I can't even _begin_ to imagine the shit she went through.

 _She's so much stronger than you gave her credit, Grey._

"Feeling any better?" I whisper as I keep holding her, thanking my lucky stars that she's out of it and back into the present. She nods and I smile to myself. _She's okay._ I take her in my arms and carry her bridal style to one of the chaise lounges near the pool, all the while keeping tabs on her breathing rhythm. _She must be exhausted,_ I think to myself as I comb my fingers through her long and silky tresses and hum a random piano tune.

Within minutes, she's out cold.

"Let's take her to her room, Mr. Grey."

The maid's voice almost has me jumping out of my seat. I stare at her as though she's grown a second head. Where the fuck was she when Ana lost it? Where was Luke Sawyer? Where _is_ the fucker? The woman doesn't say anything but the way she looks at Anastasia tugs at something deep inside me.

"Follow me, sir."

Deciding that it's better I put her to bed before I have a _chat_ with the maid, I follow her without saying anything. My shouting would only wake Anastasia and that is something that she doesn't need right now.

Her room is nothing and everything I could have imagined. Strong colors collide and mix in surprising ways, a far cry from Mia's purple room. Anastasia's room has nothing girly in it. It's like the remains of a dream, lingering on the walls and creating a cocoon effect.

I gingerly lower her on the bed, making sure she's covered with a soft blanket before I leave the room and go looking for the maid. I need answers and I need them _now._ Why didn't she come when Anastasia went in shock? Why did Sawyer come? Don't they fucking care what happens to her?

The maid is in the living room, sitting with her hands behind her back, straight and unflinching. I stop dead in my tracks as I remember the cameras. Was she waiting for me to come out of the room so she can kick me out? _Over my fucking dead body!_ However, I'm not in my own house so it's not like I can start bossing her around... right?

"Do I need to call doctor Hughes again?"

Her voice is crisp, no trace of fear or anything else that might point out that my presence might intimidate her. I stare at her for a few moments before I find my voice.

"No. She's asleep."

She nods, the tension from her shoulders easing a little.

"Would you like to stay until she wakes up, Mr. Grey?"

 _What?!_

"Hold on." I say and raise my hands. "She just had a panic attack. Where were you? Where was Sawyer? You can't just leave her alone like that!" I say, getting more worked up by the second.

"She wasn't alone, sir. She was with you."

I snort and shake my head. I feel like laughing. Is this a fucking joke? 'Cause it sure as hell feels like it is.

"To answer your question, sir, Mr. Sawyer is at the airport with Miss Katherine. As for myself, I was on the telephone with Miss Anastasia's therapist. I informed him about the situation and he advised me what signs to look for, in case the situation got out of hand."

"It looked like it got out of hand, Miss..." I trail off, aware that I don't even know her first name.

"Natalie." She replies while staring at me, unblinking.

"Natalie. She had a panic attack. How much worse does it have to get to be considered _out of hand?_ " I hiss, unable to control my temper.

Natalie, however, remains stoic.

"Miss Anastasia does not wish to take her medicine. I have been advised that she refuses to take her prescribed pills. There is nothing more than you or I could have done in this situation. There is no instant fix." She replies calmly even though I can see it in her eyes that she takes no pleasure from what she is telling me.

I gape at her. _There is no instant fix._

"Now, would you like to wait until she wakes up or do you want to leave now?" She asks again, slowly, as though I'm having trouble understanding her.

"I'll wait." I reply as I attack my hair and grip it tight, almost to the point of pain.

"Very well, sir. Please do not hesitate to contact me if you need anything."

Just like that, she turns around and disappears down the opposite hallway, leaving me gaping in her wake.

 _Snap out of it, Grey!_

I find Anastasia in the same position I left her. She seems peaceful, her hair fanned around her like a crown and her long lashes resting on her rosy cheeks. I'm almost afraid to sit on the bed. What if she wakes up? After an episode like that, she should be exhausted. She needs her rest.

Making sure I move as little as possible so as not to disturb her, I lay down next to her after kicking my shoes off. Her scent and body heat ease the tension from my muscles and I find myself relaxing for the first time in the last hour or so.

I wake to the feel of her hands in my hair, softly massaging my scalp. It's Heaven! I can't help the moan that escapes me when she stops her ministrations. "Don't stop." I plead, like a thirsty man for a glass of water. I am vaguely aware that I am pinning her into the mattress, my weight keeping her in place, as my head rests on her stomach.

When she doesn't start again, I look up to check she isn't scared or anything. There's no fear in her eyes but there is something I can't put my finger on.

"What are you thinking about?"

"My treatment." She replies with a far away look as she stares out the windows. It's almost dawn.

Unable to keep my curiosity to myself, I ask the question that's sitting on the tip of my tongue.

"What about your treatment?"

She sits and ponders my question for a few minutes. It isn't until the starts chewing on her bottom lip that I feel the need to prompt her. That lip is seriously distracting.

"Stop that." I say softly as I release her bottom lip from her pearly teeth. "Tell me, Anastasia. What about your treatment?"

"I haven't been following my treatment," She whispers. "I didn't like the way the pills made me feel. They made me sleepy, groggy… I lost my appetite and I had trouble focusing on even the simplest of tasks. I couldn't function. So I stopped taking them. I stopped following my treatment. I wanted to fight my own battles, without any chemical help. I wanted to prove to myself that I could get myself out of the abyss. And I did. The problem is that some episodes are worse than others. Some triggers are more powerful than others because the memories behind them are stronger. When I was drugged, my memories from those times are hazy at best. Therefore, the episodes are mild. But there are some memories… from when I was sober or in withdrawal… the pain… his hands… wrapped around my neck… the thirst… the hunger…"

The look of pure pain on her face tears what's left of my black heart. _The hunger_. Oh, baby, I can relate to that!

I take her hand and start kissing each of her knuckles of her left hand.

"I won't let anyone touch you, Anastasia. No one will ever hurt you again. I promise." I whisper on her skin, enjoying its silky texture under my lips. I wonder idly how it would feel to kiss every inch of her skin. Then I lock eyes with her and I can almost feel the lust in her pupils. They're so dilated that her iris is almost non-existent. My eyes do a back and forth dance between her eyes and lips as I lean in, making sure to check for any sign that she wouldn't want this.

I kiss her softly, far more softly than what the demons inside me are asking for but I don't care what they want. I lose myself in this sweet moment and the world slips away. It's just me and her. She's drawing me into a Universe that's foreign to me. All that maters is her and the feel of her in my arms. There's very little sexuality and a lot of intimacy.

 _Intimacy._ Is this how it feels when someone becomes the center of your Universe? Is this how it feels to be in love?

A brief yet strong knock on the door interrupts us. We both breathe heavily for a few seconds before Anastasia answers.

"Yes?" Her voice is husky and it's taking everything within me to stop from telling Natalie to go to hell and resuming out make-out session. Natalie's words, however, make my blood turn cold.

"Mademoiselle, votre mère est ici." She says from the other side of the door.

 _Well, fuck my life!_


	6. Chapter 6

**Thank you all for your support on this!**

 **Enjoy!**

 **.**

 **CPOV**

CH. 6

Carla May Wilks is everything and nothing like I've pictured in my head. On the outside, she has the manners and posture of a woman how's been schooled in the finest and most prestigious places money could buy. Her clothes, make-up, accessories, hair and everything in between are a perfect mix. Nothing boring, nothing flashy, nothing that could spoil the first impression.

Her eyes, though, are a fucking bottomless pit. There's no emotion whatsoever and that gives me the creeps. Still, I put on my usual mask and wait to see how this will play out. Now isn't the time to start asking question, especially when none of them seem to happy to be in each other's presence.

I know from Anastasia's background check that they aren't close. Complete opposites would be closer to the truth. Carla seems like she's doing everything within her power to stay as far as possible from her daughter. But Anastasia's not projecting the same vibe. I can tell she's surprised to see her mother here but there's a longing in her posture, like she's trying to hold herself back from reaching out to her mother.

 _Interesting..._

"Mother."

The cold voice – devoid of any emotion – takes me off guard. I keep my eyes trained on Carla who still has to say a word to her daughter. She's analyzing us, standing close to each other, coming from the same room where we just made out. But Anastasia doesn't seem fazed by this. It's like whatever happened in that room, stayed in that room. Once again, I'm baffled by her. It feels like I'm dealing with two separate people, both in the same body.

"Anastasia."

I watch as Carla approaches, ready to hug her daughter with a smile on her face in spite of the ice cold welcoming that just happened a moment ago. Carla isn't bothered not even when her daughter refuses to hug her.

 _Someone was expecting the cold shoulder._

Then again, I don't know what I would do if Grace stopped talking to me for a year after I've been kidnapped and then ran off to marry someone else, not even bothering to invite me to her wedding. Yet, something tells me it's more to this than meets the eye. Carla's getting the cold shoulder for more than just forgetting to invite her daughter to be her bride's maid.

 _What mother cuts all ties with her daughter for over a year and then just pops out of the blue with a serene attitude?_

Carla, apparently.

It's weird to see them interact, to see Anastasia so cold and detached, trying her best to keep a poker face on while her entire body vibrates with the need to get closer to her mother. A short round of attacks soon follows and I'm caught in the middle. I can tell Anastasia doesn't want her mother here but at the same time, she's caught off guard and doesn't know how to react.

 _Well, baby, that makes two of us._

"Eleven years in France and your manners are still horrible." Carla scoffs. "Carla May Wilks." she says and extends a perfectly manicured hand in my direction. I eye it like it's a snake, its tongue poking out and tasting the air.

 _Come on, Grey. She's just another socialite. Been there, done that._

"Christian Grey." I say as I grip her hand in a firm handshake.

Carla's smile slips and, as soon as Anastasia turns her back on us, her eyes are filled with something close to hatred.

"You're Elena's pet, aren't you? What the fuck are you doing near my daughter?" She hisses, catching me off guard and my body is in full lockdown for a second before the mask comes down to cover all emotion from my face. _How the fuck could she know about this?_

"I don't –" I start to say but she cuts me off without giving me the chance to speak.

"Oh, cut the crap! I know about you, Elena's perfect pet. Her perfect _project_. You stay away from my daughter or else you _will_ live to regret it. Got it, _Mr. Grey?"_

I can only stand still as a statue as my mind conjures all the fucking possibilities. How the fuck does she know about me and Elena? How the fuck does she know Elena in the first place? And what the fuck does she mean I'm Elena's perfect project?

Fortunately for me, Anastasia's back in less than two minutes and there's something in her eyes eerily similar to Carla's look. I hold my breath and wait for Carla to expose me and start screaming the truth in Anastasia's face.

 _She is her mother's daughter, even if she's fighting it._

She'll warn Anastasia to stay away from me. _She's going to take her from me._ I've just met her, just let her see me, a part of the real me, and now she's going to find out what a fucking bastard I am and run away without a second glance! I can't let that happen! I can't let her tell Anastasia about me and Elena.

 _So what are you going to do about it, Grey? You've known it was going to blow up in your face one day._

"Carla. Outside."

These two words that make Carla's spine straighten instantly make me swallow nervously. I haven't heard anyone speak like that, not even Elena in full Domme mode. There's no room for discussion and no room to back out when you hear that voice. All you can do is comply.

 _A natural._

"I have to see why she's here. Please excuse us for a few minutes." Anastasia whispers and I can't help but be a little less agitated. Her voice and the soft undertone of it almost eases the panic in my head. _Almost._ I know she'll want nothing to do with me once she finds out and I'll do whatever the fuck is necessary to keep that from happening. I don't even know the extent of Carla's knowledge but anything that's tied to Elena will taint Anastasia. I can't let that happen.

 _It's already happening, Grey._

"Sure."

My voice sounds strange even to my own ears. I wonder what Anastasia makes of it.

In the blink of an eye, she presses her lips to mine and all I can think of are those pliable pillows, delectable and silky like the petal of a rose. Oddly enough, her middle name is Rose. _How fitting._

Shit... I'm way over my fucking head! I'm losing my fucking mind here!

 _And it's all because of her._

"I always wondered what was your connection to Mrs. Lincoln."

Her bodyguard's voice snaps me out of my daydream and slams me back into reality. Wait, _what?_

"What are you talking about?" My voice sounds suspicious even to my own ears. The defensive walls and poker face are back on, full force. What the fuck is he hinting at? What the fuck does he know?

"The missing link between you and Lincoln, the last piece of the puzzle that is Mr. Christian Trevelyan-Grey: you were Elena Lincoln's pet."

Silence.

"I have to say, it's quite impressive how you've managed to keep it under the rug and let it rot there. I can't imagine the perfect Grace Trevelyan-Grey supporting such an _unique bond_ between her middle child and best friend."

I can almost smell the disgust in his voice.

"You don't know what you're talking about." I hiss and glare at the man on my right. But instead of the usual smirk and cocky attitude, his eyes bore into mine, leaving me rattled. I don't need him questioning me. I don't need him looking at me like I'm something he's just waiting to study.

"Oh, we both know that's not true, Grey. You can lie to yourself all you want but don't lie to me. Not after what you've seen and heard. Not after you've seen the monsters that lurk inside her head."

I swallow past the lump in my throat. Yeah, I've seen what's inside her head. It's too similar to what's inside mine.

 _That's not stopping you though, isn't it?_

"If you care about her well being even a bit, you'll stay away from her."

"Is that a threat?" I hiss and narrow my eyes. Even I know I'm in too fucking deep to let her slip through my fingers. I'm a selfish fucker and I know it.

"Does it have to be?" He asks instead of answering my question, daring me to challenge him.

"So what am I supposed to do? Ignore this and move on like nothing fucking happened?"

It's his turn to shut up and mull over my words. A few moments of silence pass as we watch the two women.

"Her mother always brings a baggage too heavy from Ana to carry. If your presence will only add to that baggage, you can rest assured I will do _anything_ within my power to keep you away. Are we clear?"

There's something in his voice that brings back the lump in my throat. _What the fuck is going on?_

"What that fuck is that supposed to mean?" I ask but he doesn't answer. His eyes are focused on Anastasia and her mother, never missing one move. I bet the fucker even reads Anastasia's lips for any clues. My gaze also stops on Anastasia and I can see the hurt and pain on her face. It takes my fucking breath away like I've been sucker punched.

 _What happened to you, beautiful girl?_

I can only hear bits and pieces of their conversation. I have to admit, curiosity and fear run through my veins. I need to hear what they're talking about. Is Carla warning her to stay away from me? Is she telling her about my time with Elena? What the fuck does she know about me and Elena?

 _"Don't you dare judge me! You have no idea what kind of life I've lived while I did everything for you. I am your mother, whether you like it or not. I raised you, nurtured you… you selfish girl!"_

Her voice is far away but I've heard her loud and clear.

 _Fuck!_

What the fuck is Carla playing at? Is she telling Anastasia to stay away from me? Warning her away from me?

 _She's doing what you should have done, Grey._

I'm ready to take a step in their direction but Sawyer's hand shoots in front of me, effectively halting my steps. Why aren't we stopping this? It's clear as fucking day that Anastasia's not comfortable. She's in pain and I can feel it all the way into my bones.

 _What is this?_

"We're going to stay here and let them speak." Sawyer says quietly, keeping his eyes trained on them. He doesn't see the crazed look in my eyes.

"Speak?! They're screaming at each other." I say and make a move to go around his arm but he's faster and blocks me again. _What the fuck?!_

"Ana wanted this conversation and _we_ are going to respect her decision, Grey. Don't move a fucking inch." The tone of his voice halts any movement. "If you can't curve that Dominant shit, leave. She's not your submissive and you're in _her_ house. Keep that in mind."

So we stay and watch, watch and watch some more. We watch her, ready to step in at any time. We watch as nasty words are thrown. We watch as Anastasia tears away at her mother without any reaction from Carla. I'm ready to fight the fucker if he dares to let this go too far. The last thing I need is to see another scene like the one a few hours ago. I can't handle a repeat of that shit. I can't handle to see the terror in her eyes and the fear in her voice.

" _Because I've tried!"_

Her voice is hoarse and the hurt behind those words hit me right in the gut. This another kind of hurt that's inside her, another brand of demons fighting their restrains. She's strong, I'll give her that. She's pushing herself and testing their restraints in the process. When's the last time I've done that? Probably never, not even when John's trying to get the shit out of my head on the coffee table between us.

 _I have never tried._

I realize that now. I've never been as gutted as she is right now and that makes me a coward. The great fucking Christian Grey is nothing but a _fucking_ coward! I feel my lips thinning in contempt at the thought. But that's what I've done all my life, running like a coward and never standing at my full height, facing the demons and trying to fight them. _A victim._

" _It's meant to remind me to look deeper and not judge a book by its cover. It's also meant to remind me that underneath a hard exterior, there's always a lost soul that is meant to love and be loved, to grow and learn as many things about the surrounding world as it possibly can. It's meant to remind me that there is a light at the end of the tunnel."_

There is light at the end of the tunnel but why do I get the feeling that Carla's presence only keep dragging her away from the light?

"Just how fucking long do you plan on staying here? She's in pain!" I shout but he only cocks his head and stares at me strangely.

"Pain is part of the healing process, Grey. You of all people should know that. It's her call."

 _What the fuck is that supposed to mean?_ Why the fuck is this guy acting like my shrink? I'm fucking tired of people shrinking me like they know shit!

"Fuck this." I mutter and push him away, taking large steps in her direction. The electric buzz that surrounds us makes its presence felt and my skin tingles. I cam almost taste her pain. My jaw clenches. I can't believe I've let this go on for so long.

 _It wasn't your call, Grey._

"Ana!" Sawyer bellows from behind me, a warning that I'm coming and a heads-up to finish what they had been discussing.

"Mrs. Wilks, your presence here makes your written agreement with Sir Stephen Clayton null and void."

 _Say what now?_ We've been watching this spectacle when she wasn't supposed to be here in the first place? What the fuck?

Upon hearing his words, Carla's eyes burn with a hatred so powerful it makes my blood freeze.

"I don't care about what _Sir_ Stephen Clayton offers me. I wanted to see my daughter and there's no one who can deny me that right. Not even your boss!" She hisses like a cobra, right before attacking. Sawyer isn't fazed, though. The fucker actually smirks at her.

"Mrs. Wilks, you and I both know you're not here _just_ to see your daughter."

"You don't know _shit_ , Luke Sawyer!" Carla bellows. "You couldn't keep her safe the first time and you're doing a piss poor job the second time around!"

I watch as Sawyer's posture changes as he averts his eyes. It hit close to home. A little too fucking close for him. Was he the one in charge of her security and he made a mistake that cost Anastasia her freedom for almost three months?

"Get out." Anastasia hisses, a note low in her voice, daring her mother to question her.

Unluckily for her, Carla ignores the danger signs. "Anastasia…"

"I said, get out!" She screams at her mother and I flinch before stepping in and wrapping her in my arms, to keep her from pouncing on Carla. My touch does nothing to keep her still or calm. she's fighting like a lioness.

The fucking volcano just erupted, ladies and gentlemen.

"Get your filthy hands off of her, Grey." Carla says, her voice low and menacing.

 _Like that's gonna happen._

"Shut the fuck up!" Anastasia screams at Carla and I can feel the heavy sobs leaving her chest. "You don't know shit about protection! How dare you judge Luke when you've been doing a piss poor job at being a mother all my life?! Who are you to talk about filth when you've been fucking men for money and fortune and more money and more fortune? Get out! I don't want to see you here anymore! _Get out!_ "

Luckily for me, Anastasia is too emotional to think straight and overpower me. _God, this woman is made of steel._ Her strength almost catches me off guard.

 _Hold on, Grey._

I watch as Carla makes her way far from us with her head bowed. Bent but not defeated. If there's something I've learned about Carla May Wilks, she's not a loser.

"It's OK, it's OK..." I keep whispering into her hair. The adrenaline has worn off and she's shaking in my arms. I hold on tighter. What is this woman doing to me? I'm in awe of her. So much strength in suck a petite frame with fragile mind. My black heart breaks a little more as I think back to all the support system that failed to keep her upright when everything came crashing down. Vaguely, I wonder what Clayton's reaction was to all of this. He was married to that viper and now she's a _persona non grata_ in his closest circles. _And in Anastasia's life, don't forget._

"Anastasia, what was that?"

"That was me speaking up after twenty two years." She whispers into my chest. Strange enough, I'm not scared that she might do something to cause that blinding pain to resurface once again. "It was eating away at me, sucking the life out of me. And if it's something I have learned during therapy is that you can't fight darkness with darkness. You fight it with light." Her voice sounds far away, down memory lane.

"I'm sorry." I breathe out. I'm so sorry. Sorry for pushing her, sorry for disrupting her quiet life, sorry for pushing everything in her face as I tie her to the front row.

"So you keep saying. What are you sorry for?"

Her eyes search mine and I do my best to keep the walls up enough so she can't climb them and see the darkness beyond.

"For everything. I mean it. You were right. I have opened a can of worms that should have been left alone."

"My shrink always says that if you keep looking back, you'll never see what's waiting in front of you. So... my advice to you is to stop looking in the past. Stop looking into _my_ past because there's nothing I want to remember from that particular time."

"Does she know the identity of your captors?"

Her look makes me quickly raise my hands in defense.

"Okay, okay! I'll stop asking about that. But you have to understand, Anastasia... it's fucking hard to just let it go. Those people hurt you. Probably tortured you. And I can't just stand by and..."

"And what? Allow it? Thankfully, that's not an option because it has already _happened._ There's nothing anyone can do about it." She cuts in and sighs. "Look, I appreciate it but I'm asking you to put it out of your mind."

How can she just say that?! How can she just expect me to keep my mouth shut and move on?

"I just don't get it! Your step-father is a powerful man and he could use that power to track anyone down to the ends of the fucking Earth! Yet, when the Scotland Yard announces, not even a month after you were found that they are closing the case because of the lack of conclusive evidence, he doesn't say anything. You were one step away from being killed by an overdose and he just stands there? Un-fucking-believable!"

Just saying all the shit out loud has my blood boiling and my vision clouds as a haze red veil covers my eyes.

"Why are you so emotionally invested in this? I'm not the first victim of a kidnapping whose captors have not been found. Where is all this coming from?"

 _And what's all this silence coming from you, Anastasia? Why aren't you tell me what I need to know? What are you hiding?_

I take a deep breath and release it slowly.

"It's just... not fair."

"It's not the first unfair thing that has happened in this world. It's not even the first unfair thing that has happened to me. But if I continue to focus on that, if I continue to focus on the fact that life in unfair, I wouldn't be doing myself any favours."

Her words continue to haunt me as we start to talk about me and I let my guard down a millimetre. She's seen the dark clouds looming over me anyway. It's only a matter of time before she sees the darkness of my soul and then she'll run away.

I've been focusing on the first four years of my life for so long that 24 years have passed me by without any of the hurt and pain ever going away, no matter how I've tried to escape it. I don't even know how the memories first felt after dreaming about them for so long.

I grit my teeth and do my best to stay away from that place as the darkness spreads and closes in on me. The squeeze of her hand makes it go away, though. One small touch and I'm back here with her, the smell of cheap cigarettes and booze replaced by her unique scent in a mere second.

"It's okay. Talk to your shrink about it. I'm here if you ever want to talk about it."

A smile makes its way on my face as I watch Sawyer make his way towards us, probably ready for round two with me. Her flawed guardian angel and the man who's all for keeping me away from Anastasia. Can't say I blame him. If I were him, I'd do exactly the same thing. I'd keep my sorry ass from her, no matter the costs.

One thing is clear: I've got to sort through my shit before I can even dream of having this woman. Her clear and innocent eyes will see right through my bullshit and she'll run for the hills to save herself from my darkness.

I can't lie to her. I can't hurt her like that. I can't hide from her. I shouldn't.

 _But you want to, Grey. Don't deny it._


	7. Chapter 7

**Walls are only built to be torn down.**

CH 7

I watch as Ros, my number two and my chief operating officer, is in full flow.

"We're getting clearance from the Sudanese authorities to put the shipments into Port Sudan. But our contacts on the ground are hesitant about the road journey to Darfur. They're doing a risk assessment to see how viable it is."

Logistics must be tough; her normal sunny disposition is absent.

"We could always air-drop." I suggest as I try to keep up with her. This has never happened before and all I can do is blame Anastasia and do my best to focus. That girl has been on my mind ever since I left her house yesterday. I even dreamed about her instead of the usual nightmares.

"Christian, the expense of an airdrop—"

"I know. Let's see what our NGO friends come back with."

"Okay." She says and sighs. "I'm also waiting for the all-clear from the State Department."

I roll my eyes. Fucking red tape. "If we have to grease some palms—or get Senator Blandino to intervene—let me know."

This is the usual MO: no one helps but they all want credits. Fucking politics ad politicians!

"So the next topic is where to site the new plant. You know the tax breaks in Detroit are huge. I sent you a summary."

"I know. But God, does it have to be Detroit?"

 _Does it really have to be Detroit?_

I have vague memories of the place: drunks, hobos, and crackheads shouting at us on the streets; the seedy dive we called home; and a young, broken woman, the crack whore I called Mommy, staring into space while she sat in a drab, grimy room filled with stale air and dust motes.

 _And him._

I shudder. _Don't think about him… or her._

"I don't know what you have against the place. It meets our criteria." She pushes back, a frown on her face and a tight jaw telling me all I need to know: she's pissed I'm not making the sensible decision.

 _Just as sensible as staying away from Anastasia, Grey._

"Okay, get Bill to check out potential brownfield sites. And let's do one more site search to see if any other municipality would offer more favorable terms."

"Bill has already sent Ruth out there to meet with the Detroit Brownfield Redevelopment Authority, who couldn't be more accommodating, but I'll ask Bill to do a final check."

"OK. But keep me posted."

"Will do, Boss."

A few more moments pass as I stare at the blank screen before I exit the window and close my laptop with a loud click. I'm working on a Sunday afternoon, which isn't really _that_ new. I've worked my ass off for this empire. I'm the one holding the reins and it's more than perfect for me. Not being in the know makes me loose my fucking mind.

 _Maybe that's why you're acting like that with Anastasia._

I need to see Flynn. This shit is harder to figure out that I thought.

 _You mean the part where she can touch you or the part that you can't bear_ not _to touch her?_

Shit!

What is it with this woman that I can't seem to keep my distance from her? What makes me crave her like nothing I've ever felt before?

What the fuck is happening to me?

* * *

"I don't know what to do." I mumble like a petulant child who's forced to admit his greatest weakness in front of his parents.

John stares at me for a few minutes before he decides to put me out of my fucking misery and starts to talk. Or maybe he just decided to fuck with me some more. God knows he's had too many opportunities lately.

"Let's start with what you do when someone betrays your trust." His calm voice and his inquisitive stare wake something within me. We're about to talk about Elena for another session and I'm mentally preparing myself for all the advise John is going to throw my way.

"I make them regret their decision." I reply almost instantly. Anyone knows not to get on my shit list. I'm very easy to piss off and a pissed-off bastard like me is something to be avoided.

"What are you going to do with Elena now that she broke your trust?" He edges, pointing me in the direction he wants but I won't have that.

"I already told you. I don't fucking know." I grit out, still in shock that she would ever tell anyone about us.

"But you do _know_ what you would do if she wasn't the one we were discussing right now." John says, pushing the knife a little deeper than before. I flinch. "Am I correct?"

I stay silent.

"We will find an answer to your questions only if we talk, Christian. That is, unless you want to hear another one of my monologues about your relationship with Elena Lincoln."

 _No, thank you._ I've had too many of those to give a crap anymore and it's not like he's right or anything. No one can understand what Elena and I had. No one but us and I'm just sick of rehashing it with Flynn each damn session.

"Why would she do that?" I say, surprising even myself.

Everything is too fucking confusing! Anastasia, Carla, Elena... I feel like I'm missing a huge chunk of information that's gonna bite me in the ass sooner or later. It's always sooner rather than later. Karma and all that shit apparently applies all the fucking time.

"I'd say she confided in a close friend." John says, shrugging his shoulders as if he's unaffected by this.

"She confided in a close friend that she fucked me. Maybe Carla knows about all our _activities_ before I turned eighteen!" I shout and grip my hair, pulling hard at the roots. This is such a cluster-fuck. My whole reputation would go down the fucking drain if that woman were to gossip about this. And God fucking knows women gossip more than they sleep!

"So what if Elena did that? She did it to help you."

I glare at John. He never agreed with me on that and this U-turn has me going round in circles. The fucker picks this time out of all the possible times to get over this. It pisses me off.

"I thought you didn't believe that." I grit through my teeth and glare at him.

"I don't. But you do." He replies with a shrug and settles on the couch the way he usually does when a session is just starting to seem interesting.

My frustration keeps growing.

"I don't have to convince you of anything." I hiss and rake my hands through my hair, counting backwards from ten.

"I only care about the things you're convinced about. Elena has given you the fantasy and you've given her the power. She's given you the money for your business and you've paid your debt with more than money. You've paid it with the strained relationship between you and you family, with your lack of friends, with your confinement, anger and loneliness. You gave up everything for her."

"Shut up." I murmur.

"Why should I? You've always taken such pride in speaking the truth and owning up to it. You've said you're a monster, a sadist, a bastard, a control freak, a person unworthy of love and the list can go on for quite a while. I can't say any of these things are easy to acknowledge."

"Shut up!" I say, louder than before but John doesn't give a shit. He will only keep on pushing until I break. That's his MO. That's what I pay him for… even though before Anastasia came to my life, he would have never said this. But now that he's seen what Anastasia's presence, though recent and uncertain, has done to me, how it has changed something within me. He's milking it for all that it's worth.

"I'm only repeating what you've said countless times in our sessions, Christian." He says calmly.

"It's one thing for me to say it and something else when it's coming from you." I hiss, my eyes glued to him. My crazed look almost makes him laugh.

"Why is that?"

I decide to keep my mouth shut. John stares at me for a few minutes before he starts speaking again.

"You know, there's only so much time you can buy. The closer you become with Anastasia, the higher the chance she sees the demons inside your head. You're on your way there and it should be on _your_ terms that she sees who you really are."

A hollow laugh is released from my lungs.

"Thanks for the honesty, Doc." I say, irony seeping through my words.

"Don't you think we've entertained this fantasy for too long, Christian? You're here, in this very room, to understand yourself better. The real you, not the sadistic monster you paint yourself. And the truth is, the real you is nothing more than a troubled teen, lured into the darkness by a woman who should have known better."

"It all comes back to her, doesn't it? Why can't you just leave it be, huh? She helped me, got me to stop fighting and drinking. I wouldn't be here if it weren't for her."

"Unless you have the power to foresee the future, I don't see why I should take for granted what you're saying." John says with narrowed eyes and tight lips.

"Why can't you just fucking drop it, huh!?" I say, my loud voice bouncing off the walls.

"Other than the fact that your mother was a drug addicted prostitute who didn't stand in the way of her pimp's abuse towards you, nothing has marked who you are today more than your _relationship_ with Elena Lincoln."

"She has marked me. For the better." I grit.

"Really? Is that why you're so afraid of Anastasia and any other woman before her?"

"I'm not afraid of women."

"Of course not. You're just afraid you'll invest emotions in your relationships and it'll blow up in your face. You'll let them get close only for them to leave you later on."

"You're wrong!"

"Prove it. Give me an example. A _worthy_ example."

"My relationship with my mother, with Mia." I say with a smirk.

John's not impressed.

"Irrelevant. You're keeping secrets from them and that is the main barrier. You're not letting them in, keeping secrets that you believe will make them hate and abandon you once those are out in the open. It just happens that the _barrier_ is the fact that you've slept with your mother's best friend."

I feel my jaw tense even before his words register. I'm a twisted bastard, that's for sure.

 _You'll never be good enough for Anastasia, Grey._

"Your aloofness, loneliness and the high walls you've built around yourself are present only because you've been trained to believe that love is for fools. It's quite the opposite: giving the other person power over yourself makes you that much braver. It shows just how much courage it takes to give the other person leverage."

 _He's right, you know. It's about time you faced the facts, Grey._

"I'm afraid you will come to see these things when it will already be too late, Christian. Life goes on, it doesn't wait and not many people get a second chance."

"Are we done here?" I whisper, my mind going a million miles a minute.

"For today, yes, I believe we are." John replies as he stands from his chair and offers me a handshake.

* * *

 _No!_

My scream bounces off the bedroom walls and wakes me from my nightmare. I'm smothered in sweat, with the stench of stale beer, cigarettes, and poverty in my nostrils and a lingering dread of drunken violence.

 _Get it together, Grey. It was just a dream._

Sitting up, I put my head in my hands as I try to calm my escalated heart rate and erratic breathing. The last few nights had been a bit mellow but it seems my session with John has made them come back with a vengeance. Glancing at the clock, I see it's 3:00 AM.

I have two major meetings tomorrow… today... and I need a clear head and some sleep. Damn it, what I'd give for a good night's sleep. And I have a round of fucking golf with Bastille later today. I should cancel the golf; the thought of playing and losing darkens my already bleak mood.

Clambering out of bed, I wander down the corridor and into the kitchen. There, I fill a glass with water and catch sight of myself, dressed only in pajama pants, reflected in the glass wall at the other side of the room.

I turn away in disgust. What did she see in my eyes anyway? What could have made her tell me that she'll be here if I need to talk to her about anything.

 _She knows a thing or two about demons, Grey._

Leaving the glass in the sink so my housekeeper can wash it, I go back to bed, the ever present battleground between my conscious and unconscious.

 _Fucking dreams._

I manage to catch a few more hours of sleep and by the time 6 AM rolls around, I'm ready to start off my day. As usual, Taylor greets me in the foyer, ready for our departure. Something's different in his stance and the way his eyes glide in my direction – a few times during our trip to the underground garage - almost has me prompting him to tell me what the fuck is going on.

In the back of the car, I toy with the idea of calling Anastasia just to hear her voice but I quickly dismiss the idea. It's been less than a day since I've last seen her and I'm already craving her touch, her presence and her voice.

This is getting out of hand! I'm thinking about this girl whenever I have a free moment. Is she doing the same or is she thinking about ways to make me forget her parting words?

 _Why the fuck are you so insecure, Grey?_

"Mr. Grey," Taylor interrupts. "We're here, sir." He climbs out of the car and opens my door. "I'll be outside at two o'clock to take you to your golf game."

I nod and head into Grey House.

 _Get your head in the game, Grey. Too many people are counting on you._

The young receptionist greets me with a flirtatious wave.

 _Every day… Like a cheesy tune on repeat._

Ignoring her, I make my way to the elevator that will take me straight to my floor. No need to waste time with stopping every fucking floor so people get on or off of it.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey," Barry on security greets me as he presses the button to summon the elevator.

"How's your son, Barry?"

"Better, sir."

"I'm glad to hear it."

I step into the elevator and it shoots up to the twentieth floor. Andrea is on hand to greet me.

"Good morning, Mr. Grey. Ros wants to see you to discuss the Darfur project. Barney would like a few minutes—"

I hold my hand up to silence her. "Forget those for now. Get me Welch on the phone and get me an appointment with Flynn tomorrow afternoon. Once I've spoken to Welch we can pick up the day's schedule."

"Yes, sir."

"And I need a double espresso. Get Olivia to make it for me."

But looking around I notice that Olivia is absent. It's a relief. The girl is always mooning over me and it's fucking irritating.

"Would you like milk, sir?" Andrea asks.

 _Good girl._ I give her a smile.

"Not today." I do like to keep them guessing how I take my coffee.

"Very good, Mr. Grey." She looks pleased with herself, which she should be. She's the best PA I've had. And trust me, I've had a few. Needless to say, some have cleared this desk with tears in their eyes.

Three minutes later, she has Welch on the line.

"Welch?"

"Mr. Grey."

"That background check you did for me on Anastasia Steele..."

"Yes, sir. I remember."

 _Of course he remembers._

"I want a very detailed background on her mother." I say as I play with a pen and stare out the window.

"Her mother?" Even I can hear the fear in his voice.

"Yes. On her mother. I want everything there is to know on Carla May Wilks. Consider it top priority."

"Sir, with all due respect, Mrs. Wilks has been married to–"

"I don't give a shit that she was married to Clayton. She could have been married to the fucking President for all I care! I want everything there is to find on her life before she became Clayton's wife." I roar. "Understood?"

That woman is friends with Elena Lincoln and I don't like to see my present and past collide like this. I need to know everything there is to know about her.

"Understood, sir."

"Good. Top priority, Welch. Try to get it quick this time."

"Yes, sir."

With that in mind, I call Andrea and begin going through my daily schedule with her. And I still have to get my ass handed to me on the golf course today. It would seem I'm also a masochist, not just a sadist.

* * *

 _Mommy is gone. I don't know where._

 _He's here. I hear his boots. They are loud boots._

 _They have silver buckles. They stomp. Loud._

 _He stomps. And he shouts._

 _I am in Mommy's closet._

 _Hiding._

 _He won't hear me._

 _I can be quiet. Very quiet._

 _Quiet because I'm not here._

" _You fucking bitch!" he shouts._

 _He shouts a lot._

" _You fucking bitch!"_

 _He shouts at Mommy._

 _He shouts at me._

 _He hits Mommy._

 _He hits me._

 _I hear the door close. He's not here anymore._

 _And Mommy is gone, too._

 _I stay in the closet. In the dark. I'm very quiet._

 _I sit for a long time. A long, long, long time._

 _Where is Mommy?_

There's a whisper of dawn in the sky when I open my eyes. The radio alarm says 5:23. I've slept fitfully, plagued by unpleasant dreams, and I'm exhausted, but I decide to go for a run to wake myself up. Once I'm in sweats, it takes less than 3 minutes before my feet pound the wet pavement, with Taylor in tow.

 _I wonder what Anastasia's doing. I should have called her yesterday._

"What should I prepare for breakfast, Mr. Grey?" Gail asks, her voice filling the foyer as soon as we step out of the elevator.

"Omelet and bacon, Mr. Jones."

"Very well, sir."

One hot shower later, I'm sitting at the breakfast island, perusing yesterday's headlines in the _Seattle Times_ and _Washington Post._ Both are very hyped about my speech at UW and, of course, my picture with Anastasia is on the front page of both papers.

 _A match made in Heaven? A union between American billionaire, Christian Grey, and Anastasia Steele, the heiress of Clayton International, could form the biggest financial alliance of the century._

The headline makes me frown. The fuckers are probably already taking bets on the names of our children. I scoff. This is why I insist on keeping my private life as private as possible.

"She's a very beautiful woman, Mr. Grey."

Gail's voice snaps me from my inner musings and I have to bite back a smile when I think about Anastasia. She's more than beautiful. She's _light._ The light at the end of a very dark and long tunnel.

 _It's worth it, Grey. You know it is._

"Inside and out, Mr. Jones." I whisper with a smile as I look at the picture again before digging into my breakfast. Hunger is a feeling I don't tolerate.


	8. Chapter 8

Hey there!

First of all, let me apologize for this unannounced break. Between work, house hunting, searching and ordering some furniture, I've barely had any time to breathe! Unfortunately, updates might take a bit more time because I'm trying really hard to find time to write but fear not! I'm still on this ship ;)

Second of all, I don't know if you guys have noticed but I have this amazing person who commented on at each chapter of the story. Each comment was out of this world and I thank you so much for taking the time to write them! You've definitely given me some food for thought... :)

Third but not last, thank you all for sticking with this story in spite of the crappy update schedule. Hopefully, once summer's gone, I should be back to a normal updating schedule.

Enjoy!

* * *

"Hate is too great a burden to bear. It injures the hater more than it injures the hated."

― Coretta Scott King

CH 8

From: Anastasia Steele

Subject: Lies don't get you far

Date: May 31 2015 08:00 EST

To: Christian Grey

 _I am disappointed, Christian. And hurt. I'm very hurt. I feel coerced, cheated and lied to. I did not expect this from you._

 _Enjoy the video._

"Enjoy the video." I whisper out loud as I read her e-mail once again for what seems like the tenth time, looking for clues as to what she could be talking about. Still, I'm not closer to finding out what she's talking about. What video? What the fuck is out there that upset her like that? Disappointed by what? What the fuck did I do? Since I've met her, I've been on my best fucking behavior and it's taking every fucking ounce of control to do so. _Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!_ If it's about me and those idiots from the PR department haven't spotted it before anyone, I'll have their fucking heads!

 _What if any of your past subs have leaked compromising material to the media?_

"Taylor!" I bellow as I exit my study and stop dead in my tracks. Right in the middle of my living room is none other than Natalie, Anastasia's maid. A lump makes its way in my throat and no swallowing gets past it. Next to her, Taylor looks uncomfortable.

"Sir. Miss Blanche has something for you."

His tone and look says it all. I do my best to suppress the anger and tone it down a notch.

"Miss Blanche, what can I do for you?"

For a moment, she looks uncomfortable but after a few seconds pass, she looks determined.

"I believe it is actually the other way around, Mr. Grey." She says with a sad smile. "I bring you a recording that Miss Anastasia insists it should be for your eyes only."

A brief look in Taylor's direction and I know that whatever I'm gonna watch isn't pretty.

 _Enjoy the video._

Shit!

There's a roar inside my head, like a fucking tornado has taken residence and it just won't go away as the seconds tick away. All I can fucking see is red. There's this pain in my chest as I try to get enough air in my lungs just so I can get my hands on something else that I can throw at the wall.

Seconds, minutes, hours pass. In reality, it's probably just been 5 minutes of rage mode and a few seconds before that. She's still here, watching me from the door, waiting for me to cool off and start fixing this.

 _Is there any fixing this, Grey? You fucked up, just like you thought you would._

Anastasia knows everything. She knows from the one person I've trusted with my deepest and darkest secrets. The one person who got me out of the fucking darkness just turned around and shoved me head-first into it. _Fuck!_

How the fuck did I end in this position? I thought Elena wanted what's best for me. She's always been there when I needed her, to lend an ear or a sub. Hasn't she seen just how good Anastasia's been for me? For the first time in many years, I'm talking to Flynn about things I haven't broached before, I'm spending time with my family, I'm saying _thank you_ to Andrea when she does shit for me. If that's not progress, I don't know what the fuck it is. Why would she do this to me?

 _Because she sees you like a child, easily to manipulate._

That's what she's been doing all this time. The thought makes my knees buckle from underneath me. I end up on the floor, in the middle of broken glass and pieces of furniture.

"Mr. Grey, why don't you sit down and we'll talk about this?" Natalie says and Taylor takes this as a sign to get out of the room and hopefully think of a way to contain this. I can't even imagine what's going through his head after seeing that recording. Then again, I don't know what even going through mine.

I have half a mind to go to Elena and finish what Anastasia started.

 _Yeah, 'cause going to Elena whenever shit went South has been a good idea apparently._

"When was this?" I croak, my voice breaking.

"Yesterday." She replies as she rights a chair and sits on it. "It's been a tough day and night for Mademoiselle, as you can imagine."

From the look on her face, I can tell there's more to the story than she'd like to say but I keep my mouth shut. I need her to tell me as many things as possible, maybe she'll make Anastasia change her mind and listen to me.

 _You've fucked up, Grey! You fucked up royally._

"Now that your anger has been dealt with, are you going to sit here and brood or are you going to go after her?"

Natalie's words make me do a double take.

"What?"

"I don't think I need to repeat myself, Mr. Grey. In spite of your secret, in spite of your choice in _friends,_ I do not believe you to be an evil man. A little gullible, immature and hot headed, yes. _"_

I bite back a groan and a growl.

"Please, enough with the flattery."

"It's the truth. Take it as it is." She says with a shrug and a slight smile. "Yet, underneath all those _charming_ qualities, you're a good man. All you need is good guidance. A someone once said: _People change for two main reasons: either their minds have been opened or their hearts have been broken._ I dare say both things have happened in this past half an hour. What better guidance than this?"

I stare at her. I never thought I had a heart, that place that stored emotions and all kinds of shit that could fuck me up later on. Every decision I ever took was calculated, well thought and planned. That's how I got the world to bow at my feet. That's how I got to be the Master of my Universe.

 _Emotions only get in your way._

 _Love is for fools._

Elena's words echo through my mind but I remember the recording and my mind pushes her voice away. I can't deal with this right now. I can't deal with this when my mind is going a thousand miles per minute. I just can't believe my fucking eyes and ears!

 _Your mind has definitely been opened, Grey._

"I need to speak with my doctor before I decide to do anything." I say as I look around to the mess I've made.

My precious control has slipped through my fingers, just like my sanity. The wreckage in this room is more than enough proof. I don't have a fucking plan to get back in her good graces. If I go and see her now, I'll be like a bull in a china shop.

 _Fuck!_

"You do that, Mr. Grey. Don't take forever, though. Second chances only last so long."

"What are you talking about? She sent you to give me this and also sent me an e-mail to let me know just how much I've hurt her. If this isn't a sign to keep my fucking distance, I don't know what is." I hiss, angry once again at this turn of events.

 _I_ should have been the one who told her about my past.

 _I_ should have been the one to show my demons.

 _I_ should have been honest.

Elena took that away from me. She's been taking things from me from underneath my fucking nose and I've been oblivious to it all. I've trusted her more than I've trusted the woman who gave me another chance at life. All for sex. All for a hard fuck.

"I don't deserve Anastasia." I whisper as I grip my hair by the roots, pulling hard.

Natalie chuckles.

"Ever since our conversation I've pegged you with a flair for dramatics but this is a new level. Are you really willing to give her up just because you couldn't get to her faster than Elena Lincoln?"

 _Good point, Grey._

"Fair point well made, Natalie."

"Of course. Now go and discuss whatever you need to discuss. Regroup, discover and admit whatever there is to admit and go to her. She's waiting."

"How do you know that? Did she say anything?"

She offers me another sad smile.

"No. But, you see, Anastasia has the habit of running away without any prior warning or goodbye letters. The fact that she reached out to you might be your chance at redemption."

"What? You think there's a chance she'll want to talk to me?"

"I'm not in the position to say _yes_ or _no,_ Mr. Grey but I say you take whatever is offered."

Her words stir the coals of hope. Could I dare to hope she'll want to listen to me? What is it about this woman that has me in knots like this? My only fear is that she'll never want to speak with me and not that she'll run to the first newspaper and sell them an epic story.

 _Another first, Grey. She hasn't signed your NDA._

"Where is she now?" I ask Natalie in a steady voice, hopefully. On the inside, though, I'm terrified of the answer she can give me. What if she's back in London, under the wing of Stephen Clayton? I can bet my left nut he wants me as far away from her as possible.

 _Tough luck. I'm here to stay._

"She's visiting her mother in Georgia."

I blow out a relieved breath and smile sadly. I shouldn't count my chickens yet. For all I know, she'll slap the shit out of me and then put Sawyer to kick my ass some more. I bet the fucker's itching to get me out of the picture so he can finally make his move on her. Just thinking about it makes me green with envy.

* * *

I've shown John the recording and he hasn't said anything in over 10 minutes. I think it's safe to say Flynn is in shock.

 _Or doing a happy dance._

Then there's that.

The silence is starting to get to me. Two more minutes to get his wits should be more than enough when you count the ten that have already passed.

If I can wait that long.

"I have to say, Christian, I'm impressed. To be honest, I would have expected you to go all out, guns blazing, tearing everything down in your path. I would have expected you to finish Anastasia's handiwork. Yet, here you are. I'm going to assume it is because of our last conversation so let's skip over the introduction. What are you going to do with Elena?"

"I want to squeeze the fucking life out of her. To feel her at my mercy, not just sexually as she was when I was a Dominant in training."

"What you are describing is more than understandable. Hatred is usually our first go-to when something that shakes our foundation profusely appears out of nowhere. Anger is also the second step in our grieving process."

"What? What the fuck do you think I have to grieve for?" I grit through clenched teeth. "I'm here to figure out how to talk to Anastasia so she can give me another shot. I'm not here for you to do your psychiatric bullshit right now."

John's left eyebrow raises as he listens and waits for his turn.

"So, let me get this straight. You're here because Anastasia found out and not because Elena has admitted to someone that she's taken advantage of you for almost 13 years now?"

"When you put it that way... no, that's not why I'm here. But she left. Anastasia took her private jet and hauled her ass as far away from me as possible. I need to get her back."

"You need to face this. It's time you faced this. It's time you stopped running from this. Christian, you cannot get Anastasia back because she was never yours. To make her yours, you have many mountains to conquer with yourself first and foremost."

I shake my head.

"You're wrong. Without her, I can't do this."

"As far as I can see, you're not doing it either way, with or without her. But do you honesty believe that Anastasia will want anything to do with you after finding out from Elena that you have some past trauma that you've refused to deal with and decided to cover it up with lots of sex? I think we both know she's smarter than that."

My eyes narrow.

"Stop trying to manipulate me." I hiss as my fists clench. "You're using her against me."

"I'm using reason and you know it. So far, all the progress I've seen is because you're determined to pursue Anastasia Steele. So if you're not going to get better for yourself, how about we try to get you better for her?"

"There's nothing to get better, John. You and I fucking know it. I'm a lost cause."

"Yet that doesn't stop you from pursuing Anastasia. What good is going to come out of that if you're a lost cause?"

"I just need to be near her. I feel warmth when she's near. I..."

"So that's it? She's just a means to an end?"

"No! Of course not!"

"But you crave her presence because she makes you _feel_ something. Wasn't that the job of your subs?"

"They were there to -"

"Give you the sense of power over themselves and sexual gratification in the process." John says, cutting me off in the middle of my sentence. "They made you _feel_ in control. They made you _feel_ satisfied. For someone who doesn't do feelings, you're feeling quite a lot. Without adding the feelings of abandonment, helplessness, inadequacy... shall I go on? How is that a five year old child refers to himself as a _monster_ without being _taught_ that he was such a thing?

"So I'm going to ask you again, Christian. Are you willing to finally tackle all your issues instead of hiding behind them and embracing them like old friends simply because they're the only things that make sense to you?"

I'm fucking stunned, staring at John like it's the first time we meet. The fucker has many cards up his sleeve and I'm just getting introduced to some of them. Then again, he's the only one who's managed to get past some of the walls I've built along the years. It took Anastasia finding out about my past and flying across the country to get away from whatever this is for me to sit down in this office and say _maybe_ to a new course of treatment.

 _What the fuck is happening to me?_

I'm changing, little by little. Each step I take in her direction is bringing so many consequences, so many rules are broken, so many emotions float to the surface... it's more than I can handle. She's hurt. I've hurt her with my omissions while she's bared it all for me.

In all fairness, I have no idea if she wants me or not. There's a chemistry, sure. There's an attraction and an electricity in the air whenever we're in the same place but what does that mean? Should I pursue her when I'm all over the fucking place? Does she want me to pursue her, especially now that she knows about Elena?

How could I ever look her in the eye?

 _How could you look her in the eye before, Grey?_

I have been lying to her. I could have said something after Carla jumped on me but I was so shocked and scared that it wasn't really an option. There was no strategy, no approach that could have guaranteed me that she'd listen.

Then again, it's not like I have anything guaranteed.

Christ, this woman is driving me crazy!

 _But she's also driving you to some hard truths about yourself, Grey._

* * *

Soooo... what do you guys think? I'd love to read your thoughts on this.

'till next time!


	9. Chapter 9

**Hi there!**

 **Thank you all for your comments, for taking the time to read this, for following, for... basically everything! You guys are my motivation!**

 **Enjoy! :)**

* * *

"Arrogance, disrespect and demand have higher price. Kindness, respect and tact give better prize."  
― Angelica Hopes

CH 9

"This is how you will be with me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

She runs a scarlet fingernail across my chest.

I flinch and pull against the restraints as the darkness surfaces, burning my skin in the wake of her touch. But I don't make a sound.

I don't dare.

"If you behave, I'll let you come. In my mouth."

 _Fuck._

"But not yet. We've got a long way to go before then."

Her fingernail blazes down my skin, from the top of my sternum to my navel.

I want to scream.

She grabs my face, squeezing open my mouth, and kisses me.

Her tongue demanding and wet.

She brandishes the leather flogger.

And I know this will be tough to endure.

But I have my eye on the prize. Her fucking mouth.

As the first lash falls and blisters across my skin, I welcome the pain and the endorphin rush.

* * *

"Mr. Grey, we'll be landing in twenty minutes," Taylor informs me, startling me awake. "Are you okay, sir?"

"Yeah. Sure. Thanks."

"Would you like some water?"

"Please." I take a deep breath to bring my heart rate down, and Taylor passes me a glass of cold Evian. I take a welcome sip, glad that it's just Taylor on board. It's not often I dream about my heady days with Elena.

Out of the window the sky is blue, the sparse clouds pinking with the early-evening sun. The light up here is brilliant. Golden. Tranquil. The sinking sun reflecting off the cumulus clouds. For a moment I wish I were in my sailplane. I bet the thermals are fantastic up here. It would be fucking fantastic just to get the chance to let go of everything that's on my mind and just... glide.

But I can't do that now because Elena has fucked everything up. Then again, if I would have come clean a while ago, I wouldn't be in this situation. It's all on me, just the way it's always been. But the chance to make everything right is also on me and I'm not gonna let it slip through my fingers. Not this time.

I have my eyes on a different prize now.

There are two cars waiting for us when the G550 comes to a halt on the tarmac near the Signature Flight Support terminal at the airport. Taylor and I step out of the plane and into the suffocating heat and I regret the suit I'm wearing.

 _Hell, it's sticky, even at this time._

The rep hands the keys for both cars to Taylor. I raise a brow at him. "Ford Mustang?"

"It's all I could find in Savannah at short notice." Taylor looks sheepish.

"At least it's a red convertible. Though in this heat I hope it has AC." I mutter, adjusting my collar and getting rid of the tie. The thing is fucking choking me. Or maybe it's just my nerves.

"It should have everything, sir."

"Good. Thanks." I take the keys from him and, grabbing my messenger bag, leave him to unload the rest of the luggage from the plane into his Suburban.

I shake hands with Stephan and Beighley and thank them for a smooth flight. In the Mustang, I cruise out of the airport and onward to downtown Savannah, listening to Bruce on my iPod through the car sound system. It should calm me down but all it does is remind me of Anastasia and my reason for being here.

I'm prepared to crawl back to this woman. What has she done to me? What is it about her that makes me so... infatuated?

Andrea has booked me a suite at the Bohemian Hotel, which looks out over the Savannah River. It's dusk and the view from the balcony is impressive: the river is luminous, reflecting the graduated colors of the sky and the lights on the suspension bridge and the docks. The sky is incandescent, the colors shaded from deep purple to a rosy pink.

It's almost as striking as twilight over the Sound.

But I don't have time to stand here and admire the view. I set up my laptop, crank the air conditioning to full blast, and call Ros for an update. I hope I won't catch a fucking cold.

"Why the sudden interest in Georgia, Christian?"

"It's personal."

She huffs down the phone. "Since when have you let your personal life interfere with business?"

 _Since I met Anastasia Steele._

"I don't like Detroit," I snap.

"Okay." She backs off.

"I might meet the Savannah Brownfield liaison for a drink later," I add, attempting to placate her.

"Whatever, Christian. There are a few other things we need to talk about. The aid has arrived in Rotterdam. Do you still want to go ahead?"

"Yes. Let's get it done. I made a commitment at the End Global Hunger launch. This needs to happen before I can face that committee again."

The fuckers only want this for the show. _Feeding the world's poorest my ass._ I bite back a snort. If we were truly committed to this, we wouldn't be stealing from their mines while paying them back not even 1% of what we get. We're keeping them hungry and I'm sick and tired of giving them scraps of food when we could given them the means to educate themselves so they can decide their own future. _Better to keep them stupid with their bellies full occasionally than hungry and educated._

"Okay. I'm seeing Marco to discuss the Lucas Woods situation."

"Okay, let me know how that goes. Call me later."

"Will do. Bye for now."

I'm avoiding the inevitable. I know this. But I decide it would be better to tackle Miss Steele — via e-mail or phone, I haven't decided yet — on a full stomach, so I order dinner. While I'm waiting, there's a text from Andrea letting me know my drinks appointment is off. I'm fine with that. I'll see them tomorrow morning, provided I'm not groveling at Anastasia's feet.

There's a knock on the door — my luggage and room service have arrived simultaneously. The food smells delicious: fried green tomatoes and shrimp and grits. Well, I'm in the South, might as well eat like one.

While I'm eating, I think over my strategy to talk to her. I know for a fact she's at the dinner thrown by her mother's recent husband, Andrew Wilks, and that should be my opening. If I could just talk to her, make her see that I'm worth a few minutes. What the fuck am I saying? I hope she'll realize I'm worth more than just a few minutes. But how do I get her alone when Carla's gonna watch her like a hawk?

 _Fuck!_

I dress in haste and barely glance in the mirror before I leave the suite with Taylor hot on my heels. It's almost 9 PM and I need to see her. In the back of my mind, I wonder how she'll react to seeing me here when she obviously wanted space to get her bearings. But I can't risk that she comes to the conclusion she never wants to see me again without at least seeing her in person for the last time. Her faithful dog is probably with her so I have another pair of eyes I need to be weary of.

"Sir, we're here." Taylor announces as he steps out and opens the door for me. "I'll be right behind you."

"Thanks, Taylor." I reply and do my best to reign in the nerves but I can hear the slight tremor in my voice at the thought of seeing her in a few moments.

It isn't long before I catch a glimpse of her lean figure and glossy dark hair. I dare say the dress is the exact same shade as her eyes. The long, lean feathery skirt is a stark contrast to the structure of the bodice and that décollteage is definitely drawing some eyes. She's beyond gorgeous, in spite of the showing track marks and scars on her wrists. Her make-up is dark and the moment her eyes meet mine, I feel like I'm glued to the floor.

I can't move.

Anastasia's looking at me and for a brief moment, I can almost swear I see some warmth. But I blink and whatever was there is gone. Her stare is blank and cold, raising goosebumps down my spine. I've never had this reaction, not even to Elena's looks. Do I disgust her? Is that it? Is the thought that I've been involved with Elena stronger than whatever we had before?

Luckily for me, Andrew comes to the rescue and demands her attention.

 _Shit! Did I just make a mistake by being here?_

I rake a hand through my hair and see Carla glance my way. Fuck! The last thing I need is for Carla to drag my ass out before I get to talk to Anastasia. When I see that she's excusing herself from the trophy wives group, I grit my teeth and prepare myself to turn the other cheek if it means reaching my goal.

"Good evening, Mrs. Wilks." I say with a court nod as I look out for Anastasia. All I can see is her profile as some fucker ogles her shamelessly. My grip on the glass flute tightens.

Carla chuckles, bringing my attention back to her to find her smirking at me.

"I should have known Elena Lincoln wouldn't be enough to stand in your way."

I stare at her and wonder just how much she knew before Anastasia's visit and how much she knows now.

"I -"

"I'm not stupid, Christian Grey." Carla hisses, cutting me off before I've even managed to defend myself. "You're not here to honor my husband. You're here because a new piece of meat has been dangled in front of you. But you're not going to pursue her, are we clear? You're going to stay here as long as etiquette deems it fit. Then you're going to leave and not look back. Leave my daughter alone."

Her words stiffen my spine as my eyes narrow.

"Are you really threatening me, Mrs. Wilks?"

"Of course I am. Did you really think I'll be all over you, kissing your ass like all the other people here in this room? I bet they're all dying for a chance to shake your hand. The same hand that's been between Elena's legs, isn't it?"

Her words almost have me choke on the champagne but I do my best to swallow down the mouthful and offer her a thin lipped smile instead. She knows exactly what buttons to push.

 _She is, after all, Elena's friend. What did you expect, Grey?_

"I want you away from my daughter, have I made myself clear? I won't have your presence here ruin this night with your dramatics."

"And if I don't follow your request?"

"If you don't follow my request, I'll keep her away from you all night so you'll be left watching her from afar the entire evening."

"We'll see about that." I murmur as I leave her and make my way to Anastasia. I've had enough of looking at her as she does her best to avoid Patrick Morton. Her body language is screaming at someone to save her from his presence.

 _Aren't you the knight in shiny armor..._

"Mr. Morton, what a surprise to see you here!" I say with fake enthusiasm and narrowed eyes.

His back straightens instantly. _The fucker._

"I don't see why you'd be so surprised, Grey. I'm Andrew's partner, after all. Your presence here is the real surprise." Morton says with an arctic voice, probably meant to tell me to fuck off. Too bad I don't give a shit about his opinion.

I step into Anastasia's line of vision and approach her.

"Miss Steele. A pleasure seeing you again." I take one of her hands and kiss each knuckle, making sure my lips feel the texture of her skin as well as her unique aroma. Just touching her eases the ache in my chest.

"Mr. Grey." My name leaves her lips like a soft whisper, like she's undecided whether to talk to me or not. She takes her hand back and makes a hasty retreat towards the ladies room. I signal Taylor to follow her while I finish things with Morton.

"You've seen the pictures, right?" I say with a sly smile.

The look on his face is fucking priceless.

"Fuck off, Grey. You're a long way from home."

"If I get my way, I'll be here sooner than you think. Either way, stay away from her."

"Or you'll what?"

"You don't want to know the answer to that, Morton. Consider yourself warned." I hiss as I step away from him and go to Anastasia. That fucker has another thing coming if he thinks he has any chances of getting close to her.

* * *

I don't know how we ended up on the floor of the bathroom, clinging to each other like we're trying to hold our heads above water. We're both a tangled mess of tears and clothes as she clings to me and I do my best to stay in the moment and not get lost in the memories.

I'm letting her in, whether she realizes or not. I've never let anyone touch me the way she is touching me right now. I'm letting her touch me – and I'm enjoying it – without thinking that I'm tolerating it just to get laid later. It's a big step for me but I can't focus on it right now.

The woman in my arms is crying and I'm positive she's doing it for me. It breaks whatever black heart is in my chest and it makes me hold onto her even tighter than before. She's so small and precious and wonderful. She stood up to Elena on my behalf, at a time when I thought the world of Elena and refused to see what was in front of me. She opened my eyes and gave me space to make up my own mind as to what I want to do with this knowledge.

She is caring and she is kind but she's also scarred. If it's something I've learned about Anastasia Steele is that she's a fighter and I vow, in this very moment, to be there for her no matter what. Because something deep down is telling me she'll be by my side no matter what.

 _Aren't you turning into a hearts and flowers kind of guy, Grey?_

* * *

My feet are pounding the hot asphalt. Music is blasting in my ears. My heart is beating out of my chest. Sweat is dripping down my spine. I've got a good rhythm, I'm doing my best to keep going through the burn in my legs as I keep pushing myself over my limit.

Maybe if I keep pushing, I'll finally work all the emotions from last night away.

Truth is, I'm still replaying last night on a fucking loop.

One thing is certain, whether Miss Steele knows it or not, she's got me wrapped around her little finger.

 _And how is she supposed to know that, Grey? She's not a mind reader._

I lost control last night. Caught in the moment, in the emotions in her eyes, in her touch, in the way she clung to me like her life board. Or maybe it was the other way around. Fuck knows! I haven't cried like that in over 10 years and it's safe to say I've forgotten just how emotionally draining it could get. Maybe Flynn was onto something when he insisted on _not_ keeping everything on tight control.

I lost control last night and it's something that seems to happen a lot around Anastasia.

She's under my skin, in my head and – dare I say? – in my heart. I feel like I just opened my eyes and found her in front of me, past all the bullshit and all the walls I've worked so hard to build. Like out of fucking nowhere, she hits me like a freight train, forcing me to open my eyes to the shit around me, forcing me to acknowledge her presence and influence.

Needless to say, I'm scared out of my wits.

Christian Grey doesn't do scared. Christian Grey doesn't do emotions.

Yet, here I am, doing all of the above and beyond.

 _What have you gotten yourself into, Grey?_

* * *

This fucking tie is squeezing my neck and the jacket is making me feel like I'm melting. Maybe I should have ditched both but a simple shirt and jeans wouldn't be appropriate for lunch with Anastasia and the Wilks.

The golf club is filled with people wanting to show off their wealth or wives and I'm having a hard time finding their table. I'm already late as it is and I don't do late.

Carla's gonna bite my fucking head off, that's for sure.

"I apologize for being late." I say as I approach their table and admire Anastasia's slender neck. The thought of biting it appears out of nowhere, forcing a low guttural moan from my throat. I manage to hide it in the last minute possible as I clear my throat and give Carla a tight lipped smile. She's watching my like a hawk. I know I have no right to be pissed about her attitude towards me but I never said I was a fair bastard. Matter of fact, I'm as dirty as they come but that's none of her business. It was Anastasia's decision to talk to me yesterday and Carla can shove her opinion wherever she wants.

I can feel Anastasia's rigid body as I walk past her to kiss Carla's hand and shake Andrew's. I'm on edge. Doesn't she want me here? Did the last 12 hours make her change her mind about seeing me? Fuck! Fuck, fuck!

"Mr. Grey, I present you my step-daughter, Anastasia Rose Steele." Wilks says with a smile like he won the fucking lottery but the look on Anastasia's face when he says _step-daughter_ almost has me laughing out loud. She looks like a pissed off kitten, poised to show just how much her claws can scratch.

All thoughts leave my head as she rises from her seat and I take a look at the Goddess in front of me. My breath is caught in my chest as I ogle her.

"Hello, Anastasia." I murmur, hoping it's loud enough because I really don't have more air than this.

"Hello, Christian." She replies, her voice so soft and melodic it jump starts my heart in combination with her hands on my forearms and her lips on both my cheeks. Her touch is scorching or maybe it's just me. I can't get enough of it. It brings be back to life each time it happens, better than the last time, making me crave the next time it happens.

 _So there's a next time now, Grey? Are you sure she wants a_ next time _?_

We take our seat and she's quick to peruse the menu and signal the waiter. Carla's glancing at her daughter with a funny look but she wisely keeps her thoughts to herself. I can't stop my mind from going back to their last conversation in Seattle. I'd give anything not to swap places with Carla anytime soon. Strangely, it doesn't put me off but it does intrigue me. As far as I've seen, Anastasia's is a woman of few words so to get that speech out of her, Carla must have pushed some buttons.

She mutters something about promptitude and I bite back a smile. It's a new side I'm seeing today and I'm hungry for each moment of it.

"Should I be thanking you for the quick service?" I whisper into her neck, hoping my proximity makes her as excited as I am.

"We should be thanking your tardiness for her cranky mood." Carla comments and Anastasia stiffens in her seat. Gone is the jovial girl from a moment ago. In her place, a cold look that would have chilled me to the bone. Carla's not backing down, though. "What? Have I said anything wrong?"

"I figured you'd have something to say about crankiness. You are after all, the queen of the mood, right?"

I don't miss the bitter edge to Anastasia's question and I swallow uneasily. It looks like the mother-daughter relationship going on here is not in the best of places right now. Then again, it hasn't been for a few years. Andrew seems oblivious, though. The poor fucker's too down the drain to see Carla as anything else other than the perfect woman.

My hand finds hers under the table and I squeeze it lightly.

 _Now is not the time, Anastasia._

"How about we order since we're all here now?" Wilks says, always willing to ease the tension that's rising around the table.

"How about no?" Anastasia replies so soft I'm sure no one heard her.

I squeeze her hand once again in warning, tighter this time.

"I'll have the salmon on herbs."

 _Thank Christ! It looks like we're gonna survive this Cold War._

We soon order and I find myself playing with the flowers on Anastasia's strap as Wilks does his best to dig deeper in my head. Poor fucker doesn't know the shit that lies underneath.

"So, Christian, how does it feel to join the big league? Ten billion dollars is not something one gets overnight."

 _You bet your sweet ass it didn't come overnight._

"I haven't taken the time to stop and enjoy it. It's a long and hard way up but you can always land on your ass sooner than you can spell your name. Money comes and goes but passion is what needs to drive you."

"And passion is something that you definitely have." Wilks says, a genuine smile on his face. "What about you, Anastasia?"

I watch with the corner of my eye as she shrugs and sips on her lemonade, taking her time.

"I want to buy a publishing company but it's nothing official yet."

Andrew nods.

"That's good. Keep yourself occupied until you go back to the UK."

My body turns rigid and Anastasia's eyes narrow.

"Who said anything about going back?"

The tone of her voice has Andrew gulping.

"Well... I supposed... you've finished college and..." He trails off but she's not helping him finish the sentence. The silence is deafening. Luckily, Carla jumps into the conversation, saving her husband of any future embarrassment.

"Anastasia's a very versatile young woman. She's recently gotten into literature but her eyes have always been on business. She can do whatever she likes, wherever she likes."

Conversation continues to flow but his voice keeps going round through my head. _Until you go back._ Will Anastasia decide to go back to Stephen and pick up right where she left off, including with Nicholas? The green eyed monster within me tests its restraints.

 _That's not something we're going to allow. Right, Grey?_

* * *

As soon as it is socially acceptable to leave the table, I decide I've had enough of sharing Anastasia and take her away on a stroll down the gold courses. Many fuckers are ogling her bare feet in the short grass but I have an arm around her waist and a glare to match. That should settle whatever pissing contest they wanna have.

"So... publishing, huh?" I ask, hoping to strike a conversation and pull her out of her thoughts.

It works but not the way I wanted to. I'm starting to realize it's gonna take a lot of effort to steer Anastasia away when she puts her mind to something.

"That's not why you're here, Christian." She whispers, probably aware that the conversation we're going to have is going to be tough and strained.

No matter how much I want to pretend, I know why I'm here and I know I'm walking a very fucking tight rope. I swallow nervously as I think back to that recording. My hands are sweating.

"Yeah... I got your e-mail and package." I whisper and make myself look into her eyes.

 _Now is that time for sincerity, Grey._

"I'm sorry you had to find out like that."

I look at her, hoping to convey all the shame and remorse I'm feeling right now. _Another first, Grey._

"You're not sorry I found out." She says with a small voice but her eyes are filled with emotion. My throat has a lump in it even though I try my best to swallow past it.

"No, Anastasia. I'm not."

 _Truer words haven't been spoken._

"Why didn't you tell me before?"

"I didn't know how. It was hard to make the decision once it was clear you would never be my submissive. If you could have been..." _I would have fucked your brains out after our chance meeting at the café._ I add silently as I gaze into her eyes. I would have bulldozed through whatever belief she had. I would have pushed and pulled until I got what I wanted: her body and her submission.

"You would have presented me with a NDA."

Oddly enough, the thought that I could have done it doesn't do anything to me.

"Yes. From there on, it would have been simple." But nothing worth getting is ever simple. I've learned that in the business world and now it looks like the same logic applies in my personal life. "Seeing you in the café changed all of that. I realized I could never ask you to... submit to me. The idea of seeing you tied up... almost made me gag. I was curious and then you came and threw those photos on my desk. I knew, in that moment, that everything I would ever do was to protect you. To make sure something like that never happened to you ever again. Whatever the price." The thought of her at anyone's mercy, even mine, makes my stomach rise in my throat. "You have to believe me, Anastasia. I would never do that to you. I wouldn't do it even if I wouldn't have witnessed your panic attacks."

My words touch a string inside her and it's not long before I have her in my arms, devouring every inch of her sweet mouth. I can't get enough of her but I can't let this go on in public unless we want to risk some indecent exposure.

But as soon as we break away, I watch as she puts distance between us and steels herself for what's about to come. Her eyes lose their spark and her once flushed skin is now pale under the sun.

"We shouldn't be doing this."

Something in her voice makes me take a step towards her but she only pulls away even further.

"Hey, it's OK. No one saw us." I try to assure her but she shakes her head slightly and a bitter smile settles on her plump lips.

"It's not about that." She replies as she looks me with a detachment that wasn't there a moment ago. She's pulling away and I can only wait and hold my breath. "I will not cross that line, no matter how much I'd like to."

"What? What do you mean? What line?"

 _Don't tell me I've missed whatever shot I got at having something with this woman._ I wouldn't be able to accept that shit. Not now that I've found... _something._ No. I can't let it happen.

"I like you, Christian. I like you a lot. But if you can't respond to my feelings, this isn't going to end well."

 _There you go, Grey! It's always down to the_ more _you can't give._

I grit my teeth and clench my fists. It's true. I don't do _more_ but the old game is boring and the thought of not seeing this incredible woman is doing something to my insides.

"I can try. I'm attracted to you, Anastasia. Don't doubt that."

Anastasia's eyes close as she shakes her head _no._ What is she saying no to? To the fact that I'm attracted to her or to the fact that I want to try? Doesn't she feel the same? Doesn't she want the same? Have I read this all wrong?

"How many were there?"

My fucking heart stops beating. What is she _asking_ me?

"How many subs have you had?"

Shit!

 _Think fast, Grey. Say something, don't just sit here like an idiot!_

"Anastasia, that –"

"No. The only answer I'm willing to listen to is the one to my question. How. Many?"

"Fifteen." Even I can hear the resignation in my voice. There it is: the number that will push her away from me. My walls raise once again and I shut down whatever emotion could touch me.

"I see. When did the last... relationship end?"

 _You really wanna do this, Grey? You really wanna show her how fucked-up you really are? You really wanna show her what Elena has accomplished?_

I owe her that much.

"Almost three months ago." I find myself answering in spite of the voice inside my head.

"Why did it end?"

 _Just stop speaking, Grey! Stop digging your own fucking grave!_

"She wanted more."

"Was this the usual reason?"

Her hollow voice makes my chest hurt but I can't stop now. I shouldn't. She should know. She should know so she stays away.

"Yes."

Anastasia's silence is deafening. For the first time in my life, I feel the need to fill it with something.

 _Begging would be another first for you, Grey._

"I never wanted to try before, Anastasia. I'm willing to try now. With you."

"Why? What makes me so different?"

Good question, Miss Steele.

"I don't know. It just does."

"Christian... I can't do this. I can't do this if you're not sure. I can't... just sit and wait for you to figure it out and pray to all heavens that in the end you'll want me. I've barely met you and everything that has happened should make me want to run away and never look back. But I'm weak so I stayed. But I'm not stupid enough to believe that I have some sort of special ability to get you out of your darkness. That's something you have to do by yourself."

I'm in awe of this woman.

"That's not it. That's not my intention." I rush to assure her but I think we both know it's futile at this point. I can see it in her body language that she's made-up her mind. I should admire that. I should admire her strength and the fact that she was willing to listen to me. I should be grateful that she didn't spit in my face last night.

However, all I can think about is the fact that I've missed something with her. For a moment there, I had the chance in my hands. The chance to tell her the truth and show her that I'm worthy of her time and energy.

 _But she's right._

I have spent so much of my lifetime chasing the wrong goals in my personal life. I've wasted so much time on the wrong path and now that I find myself in front of the right one, if I'm being honest with myself, I have no idea what to do.

"Really? Isn't that why you had so many women in your bed to begin with? To make it all go away and regain control over your life? Because that's the only way I can see it. That's the only thing that could make sense to me. You've had fifteen chances to open your eyes and many other chances to tell me the truth. You've ignored all of them."

"Anastasia -"

"I like you, Christian. A lot. I'm attracted to you. I'm not going to deny it or lie about it. But I'm not going to be your crutch because that would mean our end before we would even begin. If you really want this, you have to meet me half way."

The fact that I don't know what that means is enough reason to keep my mouth shut.

"You doubt me." I whisper, saying it more for myself than for this conversation.

"With your track record, it would be stupid not to."

 _Right again, Miss Steele._

I ignore the voice inside my head and push for more. It's a soft limit. I can feel it. I can push her until she sees that we could be good together. I've been honest with her. I'll never lie to her again and I'll do my fucking best to get better and _be_ better. For her, I feel like I could climb the fucking Everest.

"But you'll give me a chance to prove that I can -"

"I'll give you time to heal." She says, cutting me off. "There's nothing to prove, Christian. I want what's best for you and, right now, I'm not what's best for you. I would only be a distraction."

 _No!_

"How do you know that? How can you know what's going on inside me?"

"Because I've been there!" She screams and grips the tips of her hair. "I've been where you are. I've tried everything to make it go away. I did drugs. I drank. Not enough to get drunk each time but enough to numb the feelings inside. I got myself wrapped up in the idea that love can save me but only ended up hurting the other person. I've hurt myself."

Her words knock the wind from my lungs. What!? She hurt herself? What the fuck?

"So, you see, we're not that different, you and I. We both had our distractions. But they will never lead to anything good. I can vouch for that."

There's a sadness coating each word that leaves her lips and it makes me ache a in a new way. Here she is, willing to give me time to get my shit together because she knows that's important and I'm throwing it in her face like I know any fucking better.

"How is this going to work?"

 _Is this going to work?_

"I'm not going to disappear, Christian. I'm going to be one call away. Always. But this is _your_ path. Do you agree with me?"

Flynn's words echo through my head. _To make her yours, you have many mountains to conquer with yourself first and foremost._ I nod and watch with a sad smile as she steps closer. Her arms around me keep me grounded and bring me back from the edge of the fucking cliff.

"You can do this, Christian." She whispers in my chest and all I can do is stay still and enjoy her warmth.

* * *

It's late but it should be early enough across the ocean. I dial the numbers from the sheet of paper and listen as the phone rings once, twice. Her raspy voice mumbles a low _hello._

"I got your message." I say and pinch the bridge of my nose.

 _I can't believe I'm really doing this._

"It took you long enough, Mr. Grey." She replies with a smile in her voice.

* * *

 **Anyone care to guess who it could be?**


	10. Chapter 10

" _Change, like healing, takes time."  
― Veronica Roth _

CH 10

"Tell me what you're feeling, Christian." John urges me as he looks up from his notebook, abandoning it on the table between us. I eye it like it's a ticking bomb.

"I don't know, okay? I'm feeling too much, all of a sudden. I can't just say I'm angry while at the same time I'm sad and I'd do just about fucking anything to get out of this... state. It's more than just a feeling. It's all consuming, burning me from the inside out. I feel disgusted, I feel enraged, I fell like I could wrap my hands around her neck and squeeze the shit out of her." I hiss as I close my eyes and try to keep the images of Anastasia chocking her out of my head. They're only fueling my rage.

"Would you do that because that's what Anastasia did or would you do it because it would be the right thing to do from your perspective?"

"It would be the right thing to do, wouldn't it? I'd pay her back for her _kindness._ "

"Are you asking me what you should think?"

His question throws me off a little. _Is that what I'm doing here?_

"So you'd hurt those who have hurt you. That's your solution? That would make everything better?"

"I don't know. Aren't you the one I'm paying to give me solutions?"

The fucker has the gal to smirk.

"Up until now, you paid me to get your kicks out of _dominating_ me. But I think we both know you're paying me to help you _find_ the solution. Merely offering it on a plate doesn't seem like a good deal."

"I'm not asking you to give it to me on a plate. I'm asking you to point me in the fucking direction!" I hiss and hold eye contact. It doesn't bother John. Nothing does anymore. I'm not sure it ever did.

"That is why I am here, Christian. I am here so you can hear yourself, so you can let your thoughts free and gain insight from them. I am your mirror."

I bite my tongue. If it were me, I'd get rid of this mirror which only makes me go back to every horrific event in my life. But I need John to show me the flaws in my thinking. Elena's been in my head for too long and her poisonous seeds have been planted deep within my head. I can't fucking trust my own judgment!

"I don't know what I'm supposed to do. I don't know how I'm supposed to react. I'm just angry and bitter, betrayed and stabbed in the fucking back by the one person I thought I could trust with my darkness. Now all I can think about is that maybe she's the one that made the darkness grow. I'm second-guessing my involvement with the BDSM community, all my past relationships, all my decisions when it came down to my subs... She was never my Domme. She was just another person who took advantage of me and pushed everyone away, maybe fearing that they could get me out of her claws. I let that happen. I allowed her to drag me deeper, just because what she was telling me was what the pimp had told me many times before. I am a monster. Monsters should stay away and never seek redemption."

"Monsters are not real. Monsters are only inside our heads, not under our beds, lurking in the darkness, ready to pluck us from the light. It's our choice to stay away from the light."

"Thanks for reminding me that, John! I had forgotten I got myself in this shit."

"You didn't get yourself here, Christian. You've had _help._ But you've decided to put an end to that so there is no need to get angry. The past cannot hurt you anymore, unless you give it permission to do so."

"Yeah well it's still here, isn't it?" I shout and grip my hair for what must be the millionth time. "The past is staring at me each morning in the fucking mirror. I can't make it go away. You wanna know what I see every morning? I see a fucking bastard who no matter how much greatness he achieves, will never get rid of the emotional and physical scars that mar him." I roar as I get up from the fucking couch and start pacing the room.

"Yet that doesn't stop you from hoping that, in spite of what you see in the mirror each day, someone will look past that. That's what it boils down to. Doesn't it Christian?"

John's words make me freeze.

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm talking about the walls you keep building, all the while hoping that someone will learn to climb them. I'm talking about both your personal _and_ professional life. You strive for perfection as though you're the perfect man. As Anastasia so eloquently put it, you're setting yourself up for failure. You know no one will ever be good enough so you will always have to punish them, show them they could never reach your standard."

"I'm not doing that." I hear myself say but my head is a million miles away, thinking and over thinking each thing I've ever said, each thing I've ever done.

"Really? Isn't that what's happening with Grace? You looked up at her like an angel sent to save you. But she couldn't save you from what was inside, the demons that ate away at you. You considered yourself a monster, unworthy of love, but you also wanted her to show you differently. When it was clear to you that she wouldn't be able to do it, you looked for another idol and pushed her away.

"Fate made you cross paths with Elena and, well... we both know that sordid tale. She is too far off from the angel able to give you your redemption. Yet, you held on to that for quite some time. Hope kept you there. Hope in the mask of complete control. You set up contracts, limits and rules. Rules are meant to be broken and so punishment followed.

"But your false idol couldn't keep you entertained forever so fate put you face to face with your biggest challenge yet: Anastasia Rose Steele."

"Don't drag her into this, John." I hiss. She shouldn't be in this conversation. She's too pure for this shit!

"You've already done that, Christian."

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! You're wrong! You're wrong about all of it!" I say as I grip my hair and start pulling at it. The sharp pain keeps me grounded.

"I have done that for many years and it brought you nothing. Time to change tactics."

"So telling me this... is going to bring me something?"

"Christian, for such a successful businessman, you're incredibly obtuse. That or you're just too blinded by your self loathing to see things clearly. I dare say both."

"I thought we were talking about my emotions." I mumble and look away from his face.

"That we were. But emotions are a complex aspect of our intellect. Your emotions have never matured. If we were to be honest, your emotional intelligence is one of a teenager. Which isn't so bad... if we were to dismiss the fact that you are 28 years old."

"And we're back to insulting me."

"We're back to speaking the truth. And speaking of truth, tell me the truth about Anastasia."

His words confuse me. The truth? I've told him the truth, more than I've done in the last few years of therapy with him.

"Were are you going with this? You probably know more than I'll ever know."

"This isn't a competition. Tell me about her. Have a seat and tell me all there is to know about Anastasia through _your_ eyes."

With narrowed eyes, I do as he asks.

"Anastasia is a fascinating creature. She's a woman who has been through a lot of challenges: her relationship with her mother could definitely use some improvement and she's trying. She's been kidnapped, held against her will for almost 3 months, drugged out of her mind. In spite of all this, she's managed to get off the ground and get her life back."

"The picture of a true hero."

I can't tell if he's being ironic or just pointing out something but I don't like it.

"What do you want me to say, John? That she's beautiful and I have a raging boner each time I'm around her? I can also say that. I'm not ashamed of that. But that's not what draws me in."

"What draws you in, Christian?"

"She's a fighter. She's not a quitter. And that's something I've never been. Sure, in the business world, I'm a fucking shark. But in my personal one? I'm fifty shades of fucked-up and I've never tried to shrink the number."

"Do you see yourself becoming the fighter or making her kneel?"

His question drains the blood from my head. I feel lightheaded.

"What?"

"Each person in your life has a purpose, Christian. Your birth mother had a role to fulfill. She failed. Grace had one. She failed. Elena had one. She failed. Your fifteen submissives also had a role. They _all_ failed. Each and every one of them. Now, Anastasia has taken her place, ready to try and fulfill her own role. I have to ask myself: are you even sure what that role is? What do you want from this fighter? You want to be like her or to make her a spitting image of yourself?"

The darkness is wrapping itself around my neck as I think about John's question. I can feel it working its way through each cell, conquering everything in its path.

"I don't want her to become like me." I whisper, my throat suddenly dry.

"Does that mean you want to become like her?"

"You make it sound like it's my only option." I accuse, my eyes narrowed and my fists clenched. _What the fuck is he playing at?_

"That's because you seem convinced she's your savior. You make it seem like all this is just for her. What if you realize she's not as perfect as you believed? What if she lets you down? What if she doesn't measure up to your expectations? What will you do then, Christian? She's not your submissive, therefore there will be no punishment."

"I can live with that."

"Forgive me for not believing that. Punishment is all you've ever known. In the brief time you've spent without it, you've yearned for it. You've pushed boundaries and acted like a spoiled brat but all you got was a slap on the wrist. It wasn't enough."

"So I've been asking for Elena to take advantage of me? Is that what you're trying to say? Make up your fucking mind, John! Either I was a victim or a willing participant. You can't have both."

"The fact that you've been trained in a certain way doesn't mean you asked for it. In all honesty, Elena simply gathered the information and made her move, completely aware of what she had been doing. She had the best source, after all: Grace. Unwillingly, your mother has given her all the tools and information she could ever need. It was only a matter of time until you would fall."

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that you have been in a vicious circle all your life. Pain has been your guide for a long time. Are you sure you want to break the circle?"

"Why wouldn't I?"

"Breaking the circle would mean you don't have the safety net you've always had."

"Just like Anastasia, you don't trust me."

"I trust history, Christian. But, I do believe that, in spite of all recent and old research, people are individuals and should be treated as such. I believe that you can break the circle. My question is: is your motivation strong enough? Is it well directed?"

* * *

With John's words ringing in my head, I leave his office and stare out the window as Taylor brings me back to Escala.

Our entire session goes round and round through my head as I look around the penthouse. Though my submissives had a limited space where they could spend their free time, I can't stop myself from seeing them around the penthouse. In the kitchen – on the breakfast bar, with my mouth between their legs. In the office – kneeling and sucking me off. In the hallways – walking around naked, wearing only high heels. On the piano – my cock down their throats.

Bile rises to my throat.

" _With your track record, it would be stupid not to."_

Her ethereal voice surrounds me.

I replay our conversation as I do my best to gulp down a glass of water. She knows about them but she didn't run away. There's still hope she'll want something to do with me later on. All is not lost... yet.

 _But she doesn't know all the gory details, does she? She doesn't know all the things you've made them do. She doesn't know all the things you've done to them. She's been keeping you away for almost a week._

My feet carry me to the Playroom. The key, already waiting in the lock, twists almost soundlessly. I push the door open and stay on the threshold, like I'm afraid I'll enter another Universe. I feel like I'm glued to the spot, unable to move in either direction. _In or out, Grey? Which way is it gonna be?_

A full minute later, I manage to summon the courage to step inside. As soon as I step inside, the smell and feel of the room get me in full Dom character. Except it wasn't a character, was it? It was the sick part of me, the monster, the rage, the victim lashing out. All of it, mixed into a deadly concoction that no submissive has survived. I've gone through them like butter. The more they resisted, the more I pushed until I broke them completely. Once I had that, there was no excitement left so I tossed them aside like rag dolls.

The thought makes me skin crawl.

" _What makes me so different?"_

Her question has me looking around the room, trying to picture her tied and at my whim. What makes her so different? Is it the fact that I know for sure she could never be with me in this room? Is it the fact that I could never dominate her? I have no fucking idea.

" _You've had fifteen chances to open your eyes."_

She's right. I've had so many chances of opening my eyes, so many chances to see how Elena manipulated me. I've wasted each and every fucking one of them. Just thinking about it makes the rage come back. This room is the result of her manipulation. This lifestyle is the result of her manipulation. The man staring back at me each morning is the result of her manipulation.

I'm fucking alone and it's all her fault. She's taken me away from the only people I can call my own. She's pushed everyone away with her fucking lies and manipulative behavior. I ate right out of her fucking palm, like a fucking dog!

This room is the result of her _training._ The past 12 years are nothing but 12 years of being a victim. The worst part is that I've also hurt other people. I've hurt those who have tried to get me out of the darkness. I've hurt those who have joined me in darkness. 'Cause, let's be fucking honest: I'm not a Dom. I'm a fucking monster. A Dom who is the male version of Elena can only be a fucking monster! And that's what I have been: a soulless, emotionless monster!

I can feel the anger running through my veins and for the first time in over 22 years, I welcome it with open arms. I welcome the fucking burn as my hands grip furniture and throw it into walls, plaster flying everywhere. Once I start, it's like a dam breaks and everything just pours out. The hate for everything that has happened to me, the pain for what I had to go through because my bitch of a mother, the chances I've wasted to get back on track and heal because of Elena, the women I've hurt by breaking their hearts and pushing them away. Each and every shit I've done because I couldn't face my fucking past and just fucking _move on_!

So I scream and shout and push and throw until I feel my throat raw from all the screaming and the water on my cheeks as everything is purged.

"Sir."

Taylor's voice vaguely registers but I only scream at him to get the fuck out and leave me alone. This was _my_ sanctuary, the place where I thought I could be myself. It's only fair that I destroy whatever meaning it held to me, without anyone's interference.

"Christian."

Her voice makes me freeze and I drop whatever I'm holding.

"Oh, Christian!" Two seconds later, I'm wrapped in her arms. She's squeezing me so hard, like she's trying to piece together the parts of me that this last session has broken. "Hush now. I'm here! Just you and me here." She continues to hold me, rocking me back and forth, squeezing the air out of my fucking lungs. For a second, I imagine how it must have felt to squeeze Elena's throat with these same hands.

"It's gone now. It's all gone. I'm here. I'm here."

It probably takes for-fucking-ever but I calm down. Once that happens, my thoughts are much more clearer than I would have thought. The physical exhaustion has my mind too spent to think about destroying anything.

"Will this pain ever go away?" I whisper, unable to help myself. She has to know the answer to this question. She's been here, right? She's come out on the other side after walking through her. If there's anyone who could give me hope, it's her.

"Yes... eventually."

Her fingers feel magic as she combs them through my hair. Her voice, though, gives her away. There's uncertainty there.

"Was it hard for you?"

 _Please say yes so I don't feel like a fucking pussy for letting this get the better of me._

"Yes." Her voice sounds so far away. I look at her but her eyes don't see me. She's looking right _through_ me, lost in memories that still mark her. "I craved the drugs. My own body and part of my mind were fighting against my reason. I was at war with myself." I watch as she closes her eyes tightly and a lone tear slides down her porcelain skin. Her words, though, make me pause.

"How is that even possible? You didn't openly chose to use."

"It doesn't matter. Heroin is one of the most addictive substances, if not the most addictive. It enters into your bloodstream instantly and conquers each and every cell in its path. My body was hooked. My mind was craving it. The very little presence of spirit I had was raging against me."

The way she depicts it has my skin breaking out in goose bumps. I can almost _see_ the crack whore begging for her next dose from my abuser, without thinking about me and the situation she was putting me in. To be honest, it's just my imagination making it up. I was too young to remember shit like that but I have seen her blank stare and it's stuck with me for the better part of my adolescent years.

There's something else Anastasia said that stuck a chord inside me: her mind was raging against her. Why would that happen?

"Why?"

The look in her eyes when they meet mine is enough to let me know some dark shit went down during her kidnapping and it still lingers at the edge of her mind.

 _Sound similar, Grey?_

"We shall talk about this some other time, alright?" Anastasia says, her voice light but distant.

Translation: _This is a topic I don't wanna discuss with you._

I've been trying to get her to talk to me about that period of her life but she keeps pushing me away and starts to ask about my therapy. I know first hand how to turn the tables on those around me and steer them away from the topics I want to stay away and on a level, I can understand her attitude. That doesn't mean it's not killing me. It's the one part of her that she keeps hidden. It's the only part of her where I don't have access. Maybe I'd be okay with that if it didn't leave its mark on her the way it has. But it has and it's starting to show. Or maybe her control is starting to slip through her fingertips.

 _Oh, baby! That makes two of us._

"Tell me about today. Why did you do this?"

* * *

 **How was it?  
**


	11. Chapter 11

**I've realized I'm not being fair.**

 **I asked you guys to guess who was the person on the other end of the line at the end of chapter 9 and never told you the answer. In my defense, I've always thought you guys are up-to-date with _The demons inside us_ since this story is Christian's POV of that. My apologies. I've had someone point that out and it was an _aha!_ moment for me. **

**Since no one guessed it, I think it's time I put you out of your misery. It's Samantha. If you don't know who Samantha is... check out _The demons inside us._ If you don't want to check that story out... leave me a PM and I'll reply with a little background info.**

 **Another thing that has slipped past my AN lately is the disclaimer. This work of fiction is based on _Grey_ by E.L. James and whatever you see here that's similar to that... it's because it came from there. Not mine. I do, however, own the plot of two victims finding their way to each other while battling some serious inner demons.**

 **Thank you all for your lovely reviews, for following and reading this! Each e-mail from makes my day a little brighter.**

 **Enjoy!**

* * *

CH 11

One week.

One fucking week of calling Anastasia, of texting her, of reaching out only to be blocked by an impenetrable wall. I can't even blame her silence on Luke Sawyer because he's not the one fending my calls and texts. It's her. Did I scare her away with my episode last Sunday? Is that it? She finally realized she's better off without me and now she's letting the silence speak for itself?

 _What the fuck is going on, Anastasia?_

"Have you been listening to a word I've said in the last 30 minutes?"

Ros's voice snaps me out of my head and I find myself staring blankly into her blazing green eyes. It's the first time this has ever happened to me but I can't seem to focus on anything other than the fact that Anastasia's pushing me away.

"What?" I ask innocently, having no fucking idea as to why she's all up my ass all of a sudden.

"What's gotten into you? This is the first time that you're leaving me talk like an idiot while you're daydreaming about God knows what."

Her voice is hard and rough but her eyes... it's the first time Ros has ever looked at me like this. Like I'm... _fragile,_ worthy of her protective side. She knows I'm a tough motherfucker but that doesn't stop her from looking at me with worry in her eyes.

"I've got a lot on my mind." I mumble and break eye contact. I'm never the one to break eye contact.

 _Another first, Grey?_

"You've got _someone_ on your mind." Ros corrects my sentence with a smirk. "Fess up, Grey. Is this about Miss Anastasia Rose Steele, heir to the Clayton empire?"

"It has nothing to do with that."

Her eyes narrow.

"With Miss Steele or the fact that she's got a silver spoon in her mouth?"

"Will you just shut up?" I hiss and pin her with a glare. As usual, she's not fazed.

"So you _are_ interested in her."

The way she's saying it it's like I've told her that the sun sets East, not West.

"Drop it, Ros."

"Oh hell no! I can't believe the press was right! You're interested in her, aren't you? That's why you've been moodier that usual and nothing can keep your attention long enough. I'm willing to bet you've gotten into your first fight with her that week when you worked us all to the bone."

 _Was I being that obvious?_

I drop my head in my hands and scrub a palm over my face.

"Am I that obvious?"

"To anyone who doesn't know the great Christian Grey as well as I do, no."

I release a long and strangled breath and pin her with my gaze.

"I don't know what the fuck I'm doing, Ros."

I _really_ don't know why I'm talking to her about this but it's not like anyone knows me better than Ros right now. We've been spending the past 7 years together almost every waking day and she knows all the masks I put on daily. She also knows what I'm passionate about, the things I do to make the darkness go away and the level of commitment I can achieve.

"Well, how about we start with what it is that you _think_ you should be doing?"

"Ros, you've known me for a long time now. Did you ever think I was gay?"

"No." It takes her less than 1 second to answer and her voice never wavers. "But I can see that Anastasia Steele is the first woman you would want anyone to know about. Whoever was before her... it's not even worth mentioning. This woman has risen something within you. I see myself in you, you know? Before Gwen... I was so closed off and brooding. Being gay isn't as simple as Hollywood paints it. But she saw past all my walls and broke them one by one. I can see Anastasia's doing the same thing to you. I bet you're not even realizing them in the moment."

I bite back a smile as I think back to the moments when she pulled the rug from underneath me.

"So, what do you want to do with this woman who has you all in knots?"

"I want to be with her."

"Be with her as in... have sex with her and be done with it?"

"No! Of course not!" I snap and she holds her hands, palms facing me.

"Okay, okay! I get it. You don't just want in her pants. You want more."

 _And there's the word, Grey:_ more _. How can a bastard like you give her more?_

"I don't know how to do that, Ros. I'm fifty shades of fucked-up." I mumble and scrub my hands over my face. This conversation is not getting me anywhere.

"Well..." Ros says, looking lost for words as I pin her with my gaze. "I'm gonna give you an advice from my perspective: treat her the way you want everyone to treat you. That never fails."

I chuckle.

"That sounds like good advice."

"If it's complicated, you'll fuck it up. Start slow and simple. Take her out to lunch or dinner. Take her to an event or a movie or whatever. Get to know the real woman underneath the make-up and the clothes. Get to know _her_ and not the person she's flaunting in everyone's face."

"Yeah..." I say, my mind going back the all the fucked-up situations we've been in recently. Ever since I've met her, Anastasia hasn't caught a break from my drama or her own can of worms.

"Soooo... why are we dropping Esclava again?"

 _Oh, that... I don't know... maybe because I fucking loathe Elena Lincoln and can't be trusted to be left alone in the same room with her!?_

"We're dropping it because I said so."

Ros rolls her eyes and gives me the _I-don't-buy-your-shit-but-I'm-gonna-roll-with-it_ look.

"You know that's not just 'cause you woke up at the wrong side of the bed. Esclava is a profitable business. Sure, it's like a sore thumb and it's not that lucrative but you've been a silent partner for five years without ever mentioning it. Now all of a sudden, I'm in charge of getting it away from the GEH umbrella as quietly as possible, as quickly as possible."

"I trust you, Ros."

"This is not about trust and you know it. C'mon, tell me. What's the deal with this?"

"I don't want my personal life involved with my business."

"Personal?"

I don't miss the edge to her voice.

"She's my mother's best friend."

"So?"

"So I want it out!" I snap.

Her eyes narrow but she bites her tongue and gives me an arctic smile.

"Consider it done, Boss."

* * *

I'm in John's office again, hoping I have what it takes for another round down memory lane. The past few sessions have left me over analyzing each step I've ever taken and second guessing all I've ever stood up for up until now. Just thinking about Elena and her claws deep in me has my blood boiling in my veins. So far, I've managed to keep my mouth shut and stay away from her but I don't know how long that's gonna last.

"How have you been, Christian?"

"I'm sleeping like shit and Anastasia won't pick up her fucking phone to talk to me. So I'm peachy, just... peachy!" I snap, unable to control my emotions. Then again, it's not like I've ever done it to begin with.

As usual, John is patient and waits for the end of my rant before giving me a long look.

"It's not her responsibility to make sure you sleep, Christian."

"I didn't say it was."

 _What the fuck is he hinting at this time?_

"Yet, when I asked how you have been, these two things were the first on your mind. Why?"

"I didn't mean it like that. What the fuck are you going for this time?"

The fucker smirks.

"Nothing."

I really don't know what's worse: John enjoying his private joke on my expense or me not knowing how the fuck I got into this situation.

"The first steps are always the hardest ones. It takes a lot of time and energy to get to a good place when the start has been more than rough. It takes even longer when the rough times have lasted for over 20 years. You're going to get there, Christian. That is the reason why we are here. Give yourself some credit. You've come this far."

"Yeah? And just how far is that, John? I'm seeing myself as I really am and it's not changing the fact that I'm fucked-up."

"You're used to seeing immediate results in your business but that's not the same thing as making a change in your personal life. I ask you to be patient with yourself. I know it's not a familiar term but patience is the only thing you can give yourself right now. Being mad at yourself is not going to help you."

"It's hard."

As the words register in my brain, I'm transported back to last week, in the Playroom. Our conversation goes through my mind like a flash.

" _Was it hard for you?"_

" _Yes."_

"Christian? Are you still with me?"

"Yes. I was just thinking about Anastasia."

"May I ask why?"

"Last Sunday... I kind of lost it in the Playroom. Taylor eventually called her to get to Escala and try to calm me down."

"I see. Why did you not call me if you were feeling out of sorts? You know I'm always here when you need me, right?"

"I wasn't really thinking straight. I had just arrived home and next thing I know, I'm in the room, looking around and asking myself how the fuck I got in this position. I lost it."

"What happened next?" John prompts before I get the chance to think about last Sunday all over again.

"We talked... it helped to calm me down and think things through. The fact that I destroyed the room doesn't erase what happened there. It doesn't erase what happened in the entire penthouse. I felt claustrophobic. She put things in perspective but as soon as I asked about her time in captivity, she shut it down."

"It's no easy thing to talk about the moments when you've been stripped of all your power and found yourself at the mercy of another person. For some, it's not liberating. Especially when they did not choose it in the first place."

"Or if it wasn't their choice to begin with." I murmur, connecting the dots John is drawing in front of me.

"Exactly. It shouldn't come as a surprise that she avoids that topic. What else have you spoken about?"

"Addiction."

Our talk about addiction has awoken many questions inside me. My whore of a mother, Ella, is no longer an abstract notion that led me to this moment here. Instead, she's become this human pawn in the grand scheme that is my life. Anastasia's words about addiction and addictive substances has me thinking about my birth mother more than I've ever allowed myself to do so. She was so young when she had me. She was a prostitute.

 _God, I never had any chance, did I?_

"What has your conversation about addiction taught you?"

"It's not easy to get out even with all the help at your fingertips."

"Has that changed your perception regarding Ella?"

I grit my teeth. Of course it has. Does it make me see things from another perspective? Yes. Does it make it any easier to forgive her for having me in first place? No.

"Yes and no."

John has a sad smile on his lips.

"Understandable."

A moment of silence settles over us, each lost in their own thoughts. I'm trying to process all of this but I know it's not gonna be enough. Then again, it's not like tonight is going to be the first night I've lost to my past. I've come to see and accept it as a punishment of sorts.

"We have one more hour before you need to go and pick Mia's friend from the airport. Let's talk about your need to dominate. Do you believe it could be a coping mechanism for the first years of your life?"

* * *

With my head still reeling from my session with John, I jump into the SUV only to come face to face with Mia's eager face.

 _I'm really not catching any break here, am I?_

Ignoring the fact that I'm emotionally drained, I smile as I ruffle her hair lovingly. My love for her can overshadow whatever fuck-up is clouding my day. We were made for each other. That much I knew from the first moment I laid my eyes on her.

" _This is your baby sister, Christian. Her name is Mia."_

 _Mommy lets me hold her. She is very small. With black, black hair._

 _She smiles. She has no teeth. I stick out my tongue. She has a bubbly laugh._

 _Mommy lets me hold the baby again. Her name is Mia._

 _I make her laugh. I hold her and hold her. She is safe when I hold her._

 _Elliot is not interested in Mia. She dribbles and cries._

 _And he wrinkles his nose when she does a poop._

 _When Mia is crying Elliot ignores her. I hold her and hold her and she stops._

 _She falls asleep in my arms._

" _Mee a," I whisper._

" _What did you say?" Mommy asks, and her face is white like chalk._

" _Mee a."_

" _Yes. Yes. Darling boy. Mia. Her name is Mia."_

 _And Mommy starts to cry with happy, happy tears._

"I couldn't wait for you to pick me up. Sorry. It's just that Mom acts like I'm fifteen and without a driver's license. Both are false."

Judging from her tone Mia's not that happy now that she's living with the parents. Then again, she's had all the freedom at her fingertips only to come back and lose it in a second.

"When are you moving out?" I ask. _My bet is next week._

"I don't know... my friend is staying here for a few weeks and I promised I'll spend all my free time with her. It's not like I've got anything better to do anyway."

"How about getting a job?"

She grimaces.

"I've been thinking about it, not gonna lie. I need a bit more time to decide, though."

 _Of course you do._

Luckily for us, traffic isn't so bad. By the time we've managed to catch up a little, we're already at the airport, with Taylor looking for a good parking spot.

As usual, the airport is way too crowded for my liking. I can't help but scan the area in search of any visible threat. Taylor does the same thing but his stance is relaxed. _Just chill, Grey. Not everyone's out to get you._

"I think we're here early." I say to Taylor when I get a jab in the liver from Mia.

I turn away to glare at her but find her staring someplace else. Right at Anastasia Steele.

 _Destiny._

She's wearing a long white sleeveless dress, looking the part of both angel and seductress. Her Aviators hide her eyes from me but if I'm to judge from the burn on my skin, she's definitely looking at me.

 _Mustn't keep her waiting then._

"Take them home. I'm taking a cab." I say to Taylor and leave before he has a chance to reply.

I start my pursuit, not giving a shit that she's probably here to pick-up the Kavanagh children. Elliot has been talking about Katherine like his fucking life depended on it. The dude is whipped but I can't say I wouldn't feel the same about Anastasia if we were two normal people. But we're not and the first sign that points in that direction is her dog Luke Sawyer. I've promised the fucker I would do anything to see her and talk for a few moments but he's pushed me away each time.

 _There's nothing you can do about it now._ I think as a determined look sets on my face while I make my way towards them. I've missed her eyes, her soft skin, her kindness, her voice. If Luke Sawyer thinks he could ever keep me away from her, he's sorely mistaken. Her body calls out to me and it's like we have a string connecting us. The closer I get, the more the pain in my chest is eased until all I can feel is peace.

 _She is peace._

"Hi."

I've waited one fucking week and all I can say is _hi?_ Since when Christian fucking Grey does shy? Then again, since when does he do many of the things I've been doing recently? _Another first._

I feel like my heart's about to fucking explode but when she steps back, whatever is left of it sinks.

 _Why are you running away from me, sweet girl? Do I scare you that much?_

"Hi." Her voice is like a bell, washing over me like a warm rain.

 _Aren't you happy to see me? Do you wanna run away again? Is this fucker keeping you away from me?_ An endless string of questions pop inside my head but I settle for something that wouldn't make me look like the creep that I probably am.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just a little surprised, that's all."

Judging from her posture, she's lying.

 _Drop it, Grey! She's here. Make the most of it._

Taking a pointer from Ros's advise, I ask the question I've been asking all fucking week but never got an answer.

"Let's have lunch."

 _Please say yes, please say yes._

"I'm with Kate and Ethan. They just came back from holiday and I was thinking -"

"That it's a wonderful idea!" Katherine jumps in and throws her a sweet smile. A little _too_ sweet. Nevertheless, I don't think there has ever been a moment when I would have thanked Katherine for anything. "We won't mind, Ana. We have plenty of time to catch up and talk. Plus, I have to unpack, Ethan has to go back home tomorrow... it'll be busy. Luke can drive us to the apartment and come back to collect you from wherever you're having lunch, right?"

The fucker looks lost as he looks at Anastasia for her decision.

With a nod so small one could barely see it, Anastasia gives her approval. That's all the sign I need.

"It's settled then. Come." I say as I grab her hand. I'm not sure how much time we have on our hands and I don't wanna waste it. I spot a free cab and head towards it, enjoying the feel of her hand in mine. It doesn't stop the tirade from my mouth, though.

"One week I've waited for you to call me back. One _long_ week. I'm not a patient man, Anastasia. Are you testing me to see just how far I'll go to see you? To hear from you? Is that it?"

Maybe she _is_ doing it on purpose, avoiding me just to see the lengths to which I'd go to see her.

 _She's not like that, Grey._

Anastasia looks properly chastised when I look down at her and my temper's under control in a fraction of a second. I'm an idiot. It's the first time I'm seeing her in over one week and here I am, berating her for not making the time to call me. I'm doing it countless of times with my family and no one's calling me out on my shit.

I'm such an asshole.

"Why are you hiding from me, Anastasia?"

Why don't you want to talk to me, pretty girl? Why are you keeping secrets from me?

"I'm not." Anastasia replies but avoids eye contact one again.

 _Fuck!_

"We need to talk."

* * *

 **Soooo... what do you guys think?**

 **I'm sorry for cutting it short but I didn't want to repeat what you can already find in chapter 17 of _The demons inside us._ If you want to see the rest of their conversation, check that out.**

 **Until next time!**


	12. Chapter 12

**New chapter!**

 **Who's excited!?**

* * *

CH 12

 **Current day**

* * *

" _Christian, we need to talk. Your VP has contacted me to let me know Esclava is no longer a part of GEH. Whatever that little bitch has told you, don't believe her. She's trying to keep you from your friends. Call me, let's talk. Don't do anything you know you'll regret."_

"Sir, that sounds like a threat to me."

Taylor's voice stops me from playing the voice mail again. My finger freezes on the screen.

"You're watching her." I state without looking in his direction.

"Yes sir." Taylor replies without missing a beat.

"Any suspicious activity?"

That bitch can't stay low for too long. It won't be long before she screws something up.

"No, Sir. Except for her lawyer, Ros has been the only person to get in contact with Elena Lincoln since her visit to Miss Steele's house."

 _That would be due to the bruising on her neck._

There are moments when I imagine my hands around her throat and it takes everything within me to keep myself from plotting how to get to that moment. It would be so easy. The bitch is so sure of herself, so sure that I'm still under her control that she'd never see it coming. I could kill her and make it look like one of her current pets did it.

 _No one would ever know..._

"Sir?"

Taylor's voice snaps me out of my daydream. Who would have ever thought that my friendship with the bitch would burn before my eyes and my homicidal tendencies would develop in no time?

"Yeah?"

"The jet is ready. Miss Bailey will be flying commercial. Apparently, her wife's feeling under the weather. She wanted to stay by her side for a little longer."

I vaguely wonder if Anastasia's also feeling under the weather. Luke Sawyer has contacted me multiple times to see if I've gone out with Anastasia or at least checked up on her. Samantha is also asking about her. Both seem to rely on me to offer them whatever information they're looking for and it looks like I'm failing. My sessions with John have pushed me a few feet away from her. New demons and fresh darkness are lingering around me. I'm afraid my presence isn't doing her as much good as I thought it would. Based on Samantha's stories, this is the same approach Anastasia usually has.

 _Aren't we the pair?_

* * *

 **2 days earlier**

* * *

"Sex should only be an outlet for pleasure. Hijacking it for other means, such as releasing stress, anger and resentment will erase its goal and thus make it useless. Your mind will always ponder on other issues no matter how pleasing the view is."

"Why are we talking about sex again, John? We've been discussing this for the past three years and it's lost its appeal at this point." I say dismissively but John isn't having my shit. Not today, at least. He knows he has a good subject on his hands.

"That we have. But keep in mind that we have talked about it as your means of getting control over your life and also getting off in the process. Today, I'd like to broach the subject of intimacy and what sex should stand for in a relationship, seeing as things are developing in your personal life."

"I'm not seeing anyone right now." I say, my voice and posture both as defensive as possible. I've avoided talking about Anastasia in this office as much as I could but it usually ends up in that direction, no matter how much I try to steer the topic as far away from her as possible.

"Christian..." John starts with a sigh as he puts down his glasses and pinches the bridge of his nose. "We both know that is not true. It's only a matter of time before your relationship with Anastasia turns sexual."

"What my relationship with Anastasia is or isn't about, that's between her and me."

The thought that John could dictate whatever happens between us is making my blood boil all over again. My temper has taken a turn for the worst these past few days and Bastille is definitely feeling the burn of my anger. My sessions with him have started to be downright vicious. So far, I haven't pushed more than he could handle but its gonna happen sooner rather than later.

"I'd like you to start thinking about me not as the person sitting between you and Anastasia but as the person sitting next to you in your quest to reach her. I'm not here to put obstacles in your path. I'm here to make sure you see the obstacles and have the means to climb over them."

Feeling properly chastised, I nod a few moments later and listen to John talk about the basis of a healthy relationship. Things like mutual respect, trust and guidance seem to be his mantra but looking back on all my previous relationships, I can't really say I've had them before. BDSM is about trust and guidance but I can't say that stretched beyond the Playroom. I trusted them to keep to their boundaries and respect mine, to tell me when I've pushed them close to the limit but all of that was related to sex. In my mind, sex and everything else were two different entities. Judging by the fact that almost all of my submissives have blurred the lines, it looks like the clear line was only in my head.

Listening to John talk only makes me see how empty my life is. I mean, the only thing that has brought some color in my life was my family and now, Anastasia. Even with my family, the interactions and time slots have been limited because I've never really felt worthy of their time and affection. Elena convinced me that all they gave me was their pity and that's all I've seen in their eyes.

 _Fuck! Just how fucking blind was I?_

"Christian, are you all right? You look a little pale..."

Yeah... that would be the understatement of the fucking century. I am livid. All these times when John tried to open my eyes, to make me see her for what she really is... this _creature_ who's taken so much from me. There's a chance I will never get past what she's done to me. There's a chance I will always hear her whispers inside my head. How could I have been so stupid? How could I have been so attention craving and sexual frustrated that I got into that situation? It's not like all teenagers start their sex life at 15. It's not like I even knew what I wanted and for the most part of the first few years, my imagination ended with me getting my dick wet. It didn't matter when or where. She had me by the fucking balls for so long! Had it not been for that video, I would still be under her thumb.

 _Master of my Universe my ass!_

"John, do you think I would have been as successful as I am right now if Elena didn't fill my head with feelings of unworthiness and hadn't pushed me away from everyone?" I find myself asking in spite of this terror that's advancing in my body, freezing each cell as it reaches my lungs, making me hyperventilate.

The good doctor takes a minute before he answers my question. All the while, I feel like I'm in freezing water, unable to move.

"Hmmm... I believe that the feeling of not being worthy stems from your early childhood rather than early teens. Your basic needs of care and attention have not been satisfied as a young child and that may be something that never truly goes away. You see, there is no textbook solution when it comes to trauma. In time, though, you can train your mind to be alert and catch yourself early on when the thought appears. So, to answer your question, I do not believe that Elena had anything to do with your success as a business man. You are a very driven individual and that is something else entirely."

He's right. I am a driven motherfucker and Anastasia is no stranger to that. It's my stubbornness that got us both here. I can't get her out of my mind so I'll sure as hell make sure I'm present in hers as well. Which brings me to my current fears.

"I'm not the man for Anastasia, John. But she draws me in like no one else before. I can't stay away."

"You speak as though a curse has been cast upon you. Falling in love is not a curse." John notes, worry clear in his voice.

"It's a curse for her." I choke out. "I'm messed up and she's not in the best place either."

"That isn't something you need to fix. She has reached out for help. You've also made that step. All you can do at this point is support each other. Do that and focus on the positive."

"It's so easy, isn't it?" I hiss as I grab my hair and pull at it again. At this rate, I'm gonna go bald.

"Actually, it's very hard to beat into submission years upon years of self-sabotage. It's also achievable. Keep that in mind each time you feel like you've reached a dead end. An open door will always be waiting just round the corner."

With that in mind, our session ends, leaving me with more questions than when I stepped into his office. His receptionist throws me a kind smile but I don't say or do anything. The only thing on my mind right now is to talk to Samantha. After I talk to Taylor about Leila.

"Taylor, where are we with Leila?"

Ever since he told me about her presence in the penthouse, I've been riding his ass for information. So far, we have nothing. It's like she disappeared off the face of the fucking Earth once she stepped out of that elevator. And to think she was that close to Anastasia... if anything would have happened, I wouldn't have been able to forgive myself.

"Sir, her husband has divorced her a few months ago. He has no knowledge of her current whereabouts."

 _Great! Fucking awesome!_

With that in mind, I take my phone out of my pocket and call Miss Prescott. It isn't long before she answers, all smiles and sunshine while I feel like a dark cloud has settled over me.

"Mr. Grey, finally! How long do those sessions last?"

I never thought I could ever find someone more annoying that John Flynn but boy was I wrong! Samantha Prescott's voice and general attitude pisses me off. Mostly because she knows shit I don't. Other times, it's simply because she treats me like a four year old. Again, it's not something I can hold over her head because I can have temper tantrums that put a toddler to shame. But what I really dislike about her is that she knows Anastasia like the back of her hand while I'm in the fucking dark.

Samantha Prescott knows Anastasia since they were little girls. She's seen first hand what Anastasia's demons can do and she's also seen first hand how her relationship with Nicholas Perry crashed and burned. I need her if I'm ever going to get something more with Anastasia.

"Two hours." I reply with a sigh. "Listen, I need your help." I breathe and bite my tongue before I start giving instructions. Samantha's not the type of person to tuck tail and heel.

"Two hours? No wonder you don't have any patience left after that."

Frustrated, I pinch the bridge of my nose and wait until she finishes her monologue. Samantha Prescott is not what I had in mind. Either she's crazy or having a blast while pushing all of my buttons. I don't know which one is worse at this point.

"So, enough with the chit chat. Your ex-Domme and your ex-submissive, Miss Leila Williams, have become very cozy these past few days. Do they have a Christian Grey fan club going on that neither of us is aware?"

"What!?" I scream into the phone and glare at Taylor in the rear view mirror. How the fuck did this get past him? I have people watching Elena and people looking for Leila.

"Well, while the doc was trying to fix your brain - which is a noble but impossible task as we already know - I've done a bit of digging. Miss Williams has been receiving money from our very own Elena Lincoln, though one of her _girls._ Her account isn't as empty as it once was and I believe I'm a few steps from finally finding out where she is."

The way Samantha's lips curled around the word _girls_ , you would have believed this information turned her stomach. But I know better. She's got though and thick skin. This should come as no surprise, given the fact that she knows about my past, including most of my submissives.

"Fuck!"

 _Why didn't Taylor find out this shit?_

"Now, now... no need to curse or start firing people. I am good at my job for multiple reasons and this is one of them. Let's focus on what matters, all right?"

I take a deep breath and release it. In spite of her condescending tone, Prescott's right. If I lose focus on the important shit, nothing good is going to come out.

"Yeah." I admit, my shoulders sagging. In the back of my mind, I idly wonder just how much crap I have to pick up after myself before I'm finally a free man.

"Good. I think you should focus on keeping your past away from Rose while I focus on keeping the past away from you. For the moment, you are proving to be a nice change of scenery for Rose and I'd like to keep it that way. She needs as many distractions as possible so be that while I take care of your loose ends."

"Sounds like a plan." I mutter and do my best to keep my controlling tendencies under a tight grip. Now is definitely not the time to start biting some heads off, no matter how much steam that would help me blow off. It's really not helping to see that Samantha thinks of me as another way of keeping Anastasia's depression at bay. She doesn't like me, big surprise there. I'm a Dom who's royally fucked-up in the head. _Who would ever approve of me being with someone close to them?_ That particular thought has me frowning but I don't have time to dwell on it as Prescott's voice snaps me out of my thoughts.

"Good. We shall talk about this tomorrow once again and see how things have progressed. Now, tell me about Rose. What is she doing? How is she holding up? Have the meds kicked in yet?"

I suppress a sigh and start telling her what Natalie and Sawyer have been telling me. Anastasia's condition is worsening and none of them knows how long it's gonna take until she starts getting better. Apparently, the pills need time to re-calibrate her hormonal functions and balance the highs and lows her brain is currently experiencing. At least that's that crap Sawyer's been feeding me these few days.

"Ha! Like that would ever work." Prescott laughs and growls at the same time.

"Why aren't you giving this a chance?" I ask, genuinely curious. Prescott is not the biggest fan of this current "medical plan", to put it mildly.

"What Anastasia needs is family and friends to give her strength. She's tried light drugs, the occasional alcohol, sex and self-harm but the best she's ever been was when we were all there for her, _emotionally._ "

I do my best to focus but I'm stuck at the _self-harm_ part of Prescott's list.

"What do you mean she tried self-harm?" I hiss. I cannot believe she held this from me! Prescott had all the chances in this fucking world to tell me about this but she hasn't said a peep about it! Instead, she dumps this on me like it's the most natural thing to do, like we're discussing the fucking weather!

"Crap." She whispers as though she's just acknowledged her slip. "You weren't supposed to find out about that like this. Promise me you won't say anything to Rose."

For the first time since we've talked, Prescott is begging me for something. I won't deny, it's giving me a power trip, especially now that I feel my control slipping through my fingers. But no matter how much I'd like to play this in my favor, I need her more than I'd like to admit so I'm gonna let this one slide and watch over Anastasia like a fucking hawk.

"I promise." I reply curtly and make no move to open the subject.

"Thank you. The last thing Anastasia needs now is to go back to those days. That's why all of us are watching her like she's made of the most delicate china. She really is fragile and until she has someone there who's willing to stay no matter the weather, she will not get stronger. Whether I like to admit it or not, she needs you, Grey. You can be each other's rocks or whatever. I don't mind. Her happiness and safety is all I care about."

Listening to Prescott's speech, I realize that's also what I want. I want to make her happy, to see her bloom into this magnificent woman I'm sure is hiding underneath her depression. I desperately need to believe I'm the man Anastasia will need for the rest of her life.

 _Where the fuck did that come from, Grey?_

* * *

"Well, Grey, it looks like Mondays aren't so bad after all." Ross says as she greets me at the door to my office. I only raise an eyebrow and continue my way. Anastasia is still not replying to my texts or picking up the phone. Needless to say, I'm not in a good mood.

"What do you want, Ros?" All this beating around the bush is getting old.

"Your OK to get SIP. Apparently, Miss Steele dropped it." Ros says, all smug face and very pleased with herself.

 _Interesting._

"Do you happen to know the reason?"

"She probably realized it was worth more in parts than as a whole." Ros says dismissively but I disagree. Anastasia has coordinated a few mergers in the Clayton Empire and all of them have been successful so far. She knows something and I won't give Ros the OK until I know 100% that we're in the clear and nothing will come to bite us in the ass.

"Wrong. If it's someone who could have smelled the blood in the water, that would have been Anastasia. Research this before we approach Roach again. We can afford it. He's desperate now."

"Sure thing, boss." Ros replies with a smirk and stares at me.

"What?" I bark at her. "Don't you have a meeting to attend?"

"It starts in 10. We have enough time to talk about Miss Steele."

"Really?" I ask and quirk an eyebrow. Deciding it would play in my favor if I humor Ros for a few minutes, I lay back in my chair and wait for her tirade to start.

"Well? What's the plan? You're gonna take her out, wine and dine her?"

"I already took her out. We had a light lunch in a small and cozy restaurant." I reply with a smile on my lips as I think back to that day. The start was a little rocky but once I got over my obsessive need for control and the hurt caused by her avoidance, it was really... _nice._

"Judging by that smile, I'd say your lunch was a success."

Judging by the smirk Ros is currently sporting, I'd say she's waiting for a gold medal.

I shrug and shoo her out of my office. Her 10 minutes are up.

* * *

 **Current day**

* * *

I've almost finished my brunch with Ms. Stone, confident that our conversation had been a very productive one when she decides business has been discussed and it's time we move to more interesting topics.

"I have to say, Christian Grey, those photos with Anastasia Steele have broken the internet."

I freeze, the glass of juice just an inch away from my lips.

"Don't look at me like that. The photos of you at the airport have made quite a few people swoon, myself included. I'm happy for you."

Not knowing where this conversation may take us, I got for honesty.

"Thank you."

"I've known her mother and step-father for quite some time now but never actually had the pleasure of meeting her in person. Judging from Stephen's smile whenever he spoke of her, she's one lovely woman. Her mother, on the other hand..."

I don't miss the way Margaret's eyebrows lift or the way she frowns. Now would be the perfect time to dig deeper into the mystery that Carla Wilks is. Of course, I don't miss my chance.

"I've met Ms. Wilks a while ago, when her husband threw a party."

"Of course. That's what she lives for: to show the world what dresses she can afford and take pictures with all the right people, making sure she's a constant appearance in the right circles."

I don't miss the disapproval from her voice but school my face features to remain impassive.

"I did not have enough time to discuss too many things with Ms. Wilks, to be honest." _She was too busy keeping me away from her daughter._ I add silently.

"You didn't miss out on anything interesting."

I keep silent. Silence always makes people fill in the gap.

"Anastasia also attended that party, yet no photos were taken of you two together."

I put my glass down and make a show of sighing. I'm mildly curious to see what her end-game is.

"What do you want to know, Margaret?"

She smiles.

"I'm just a curious old hag, Christian. Rich and lonely. Tell me about her. Is she anything like her mother?"

I ponder her question. Is Anastasia anything like her mother? Now that is a very complex question. I'm sure that, without even noticing, Anastasia has picked-up a few traits, be it good or bad. Her reluctance to let people in, her attention to detail, her precaution. They're all linked to Carla, in one way or another. In spite of all that, she's also shy, stubborn and a fighter like no one before her.

Before I have a chance to reply, my phone buzzes in my pocket. I've been talking all kinds of nonsense with Anastasia and it's been oddly refreshing. Each text has given me a glimpse into her complex mind and her scarred soul. With each text, each smiley, I feel I'm getting closer to her and that can only make me happy.

 _ **Good morning, Christian.**_

Her reply, though simple and short, makes my heart beat faster. _My beautiful and flawed girl._

"She brings a smile on your lips like nothing before her. That tells me all I need to know." Margaret says without taking her eyes off me.

I feel the tips of my ears burning as she chuckles.

"Take good care of her, Christian. I know a good thing when I see it."

* * *

 **Thank you for reading :)**


	13. Chapter 13

_"I don't know much about kisses, but I can assure you that hers were no less fierce than a swarm of bullets tearing the air."_

* * *

"Are you sure going out with Rose is a good idea?" Samantha asked me again, pushing me further into the annoyance that's been circling me for a while now.

The jet was supposed to take off half an hour ago but we're still on the runway, waiting for clearance from the tower. Every minute that ticks by is testing my restraints and I'd be lying if I said that Prescott's endless questioning is doing anything good for my mood. I've been restless and I've slept like shit. When I did get some sleep, I've kept dreaming of various creatures snatching Anastasia from my arms, leaving me in the dark, searching for her but never finding her.

"Yes, I'm sure." I growl, seconds away from hanging up and pouring myself a drink to take the edge off. I _really_ need a session with Claude. My frustration, fears and aggression keep piling up on top of my shoulders, clouding my judgement and making my temper even worse than usual. Taylor's ready to blow my brains out but then he'll be out of a job. At this point, I think it's the only thing holding him back. Though I can count as some sort of progress the fact that I acknowledge my attitude. _That's progress... right?_

" I suppose sitting cooped up into that house isn't helping her." She concedes. "Your men have been watching her since Luke had to come back to London, right?"

"Yes, they have. I've already told you this. Why are you asking me again?" This time, the lack of patience and strength is clear in the tone of my voice.

"Just checking. Apparently Rose isn't doing so great, as far as I could hear from Stephen. Natalie is keeping an eye on her but she's barely gone out of the house and avoids everyone like the plague. Have you spoken with her today?"

The thought of Anastasia retreating back into her shell brings a grimace on my face. It looks like it's always one step forward and two steps back.

"Yes, that's why we're going to the photographer's event. She asked me to go and even though I have a bone to pick with the little fucker, I said yes."

Prescott's soft chuckle barely registers as Taylor approaches me an gives me a thumbs up, indicating we're good to go. _Thank fuck!_ I sag into my chair, relief running through my blood.

"Listen, Luke should be coming back in a week. Please do make the effort and stay with her during the day. A surprise lunch visit, a dinner, movie at your place... just don't leave her alone with her thoughts for too long." She says, a trace of urgency in her voice.

"I thought you said Anastasia's not a child and I don't need to babysit her. Now you want me to watch over her 24/7?" I ask and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying my best to keep calm and avoid snapping at her. "She has her doctor on call, doesn't she? Natalie is there all the time. I'm really doing everything within my power to trust the people around her to do their fucking job and now you want me to add myself to the list of her constant supervisors? What is this really about, Miss Prescott?"

"Mr. Grey, you of all people should know by now. When you gaze long enough into the abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you. I have no doubt in my mind that Rose is at the edge of that abyss, staring into it until all there's left to see is the vast emptiness. She's been through this before and it's not long before it will happen again. History tends to repeat itself, don't you agree? Just like you tended to repeat history with each of your submissive, none of them aware of the fact that you did not look for their love but for the opportunity to punish the lack of affection you should have gotten as a small child."

My mouth shuts up instantly. She sighs, sounding like she's deciding what to tell me and what to keep a secret.

"Listen, I'm not here to psychoanalyze you. It's hard to stay on the sideline and watch you go round your tail but when Rose will find out I've been keeping tabs on her through you, she'll have my head. If I were to also tell you who to be, it would be even worse. Which is why you must never lie to her, even by lying to yourself. As I'm sure you've already found out, Rose finds out everything, in due time. It's why I am the way I am and, trust me, she's worse than me in my best days. The woman you've had in front of you these past few weeks doesn't hold a candle to the woman she is when depression doesn't drag her in the darkness."

"I'm well aware she's a wonderful woman." I say, irritation creeping back into my voice.

"Are you now? And how did you come across all that? Could it be that you read it in the media or in her background check? How much have you witnessed first hand? And how much of that have you _read?_ "

I've read most of that but it was all based on the things Anastasia has done during the course of many years. It's not like we've done much talking of ourselves. Each time I feel like we're getting there, there's always something that's pulling the fucking rug from beneath my feet, leaving me without any real support. She's the only support I've had so far – shit, she's the only support I've _allowed_ so far – but there's something within her that calls out to the better part of me, drawing it into the light.

"Anyway, I've found Miss Leila Williams. Your head of security will have her address upon your arrival in Seattle. I'd like to think you'll plan your actions when it comes to her instead of acting like a raging bull. Either way, I've made sure she will never contact Rose so whatever you choose to do with her will be entirely up to you. As for Elena... I'm gathering enough ammo to keep her down for a very long time."

"What are you talking about? What did you find?"

"I found something that has nothing to do with you so keep your curiosity in a tight leash, Grey." Prescott replies, her voice barely above a growl. Her answer has the hairs on the back of my neck standing. In a way, I'm pleased that there's nothing to tie me to her anymore. However, the knowledge that there's more to her than I ever knew is a foreign feeling.

"OK, I'll back off. Just answer me this: does it have to do with Anastasia?"

I wait with baited breath as she exhales and takes her time to decide whether to answer me or not. Her silence tells me all I need to know. I have my answer but her verbal reply will cement whatever's gonna go down against Elena.

"Yes. It's bad. It's worse than I would have ever thought..." She moans, her voice pained and low. "Luke is out of control ever since he found out. Stephen has forbidden him to go back to the States until he gets himself under control. The last thing we need is for Rose to stumble upon this information unaware. Even when she's going to be aware, it will be a hard blow to all of us. So now you know, Grey. Shit's going to get very bad very soon so do your best to keep her in a safe and serene place. It's vital that she gets better before it gets worse."

 _Fuck!_

* * *

"I've read a book recently and I'd like to share a quote with you, Christian."

"John, I'm really in a hurry here. I've got little over an hour to get ready and pick Anastasia up. I needed this session so we could talk about my conversation with Prescott."

In spite of my moaning and groaning, John remains stoic and fixes me with one of him impassive looks.

"Humor me, please. You may come to the conclusion that this quote applies not only for today's events but also past and future events."

I sigh and gesture him to go on. Can't hurt to hear the guy out. It's not like I'm not paying for this time either way.

"Thank you. The quote is as follows: _A person who never learned to trust confuses intensity with intimacy, obsession with care, and control with security._ What do you think of it?"

"Is this your way of telling me I'm even more fucked-up than we both know?" I ask with a raised eyebrow as my defensive walls also rise.

"Should it be?"

I groan and bury my head in my hands. I _really_ don't have time for mind games. Ever since Prescott told me there's something connecting Elena to Anastasia, something other than what I already know, I can't focus on anything else other than that. I was hoping that this session would shed some light and stuff some wisdom in my head. All it's doing so far is making me frustrated. However, as much as I'd like to tell him where to shove it, I know for a fact he's gonna hound me until I give him his answer. With another groan, I give in.

"I think it's very accurate. If you don't trust people, you tend to take it upon yourself to make sure everything is to your liking, down to the very insignificant details. This can and will get out of hand, transforming into a megalomaniac complex. Is that what you want to hear? That I'm an undercover sociopath? Or that maybe I'm aware of it but I just don't wanna deal with it?"

 _There, I said it._

"Actually, what I want to hear is why you are _not_ a sociopath." John says with a smirk.

I frown.

"That would be a lie, wouldn't it? In my personal life – if we can both pretend I have one – control is all I know. When it came down to my submissives, I've confused my obsession with care and my control with security. I wasn't interested in caring for them. All I ever cared was to keep being their Master no matter what. I was obsessed with them, to the point of pushing more than I should have, on some occasions. As for security... I think we both know that once they were out of my penthouse, they were as safe as the next person on the street. Why are we having this conversation again?"

"Talking is good, especially talking about yourself. You have to admit it, Christian, in all of our years together, you've always thought so bad of yourself and many of my attempts at making you look at yourself differently have gone up in flames. This is another attempt at getting you to talk about yourself without any expectations. There are many methods one could offer as therapy in your case. We both know I've tried almost all the tricks in the book but in order for any of it to work, you'd have to have a genuine desire to _see_ yourself as who you are, not the distorted version put inside your head. The problem is that people rarely listen to the good advice because it doesn't resonate with anything inside them. They listen to all the people who are feeding the insecurities and the fears because that's what they've been hearing their entire lives: they're monsters, little shits, unlovable, pitiful. Sound familiar?"

I nod.

"Those usually grow into much larger problems, harder to tackle when one's been hearing the same tune for years, sometimes for their entire lives. Once the habit is in place, it's hard to break it."

"So, what you're saying is that I chose to listen to whatever justified my past."

"To a certain degree, yes."

"Then how do you explain Anastasia's influence?"

"Hmmm... I believe Anastasia has shown you the other side of the coin. She's challenged you instead of offering an explanation on a silver plate. You do love a challenge, if I'm not mistaken." John replies with a smirk.

"Is that what you're doing now? Challenging me?"

"Maybe. Maybe I'm just toying with you. Does it matter as long as you're making progress?"

"A quote is your way of making progress?" I scoff and check the time on the watch on my wrist. Twenty minutes have passed by. _Fucking perfect!_ I want to see her, to make sure with my own eyes that she's still fighting, that she's still the woman I have met a few weeks ago. The thought that she could just give it all up and jump from the edge of the cliff has my heart beating twice the normal rate.

"Why are you here, Christian? Are you seeking guidance for your next steps? Are you seeking validation? You said a few weeks ago that this wasn't working for you yet, here you are, day after day, week after week. What are you _really_ searching for?"

"I don't know, OK? I don't know shit and it's all falling apart as I'm looking at it. My control, my emotions, my nightmares. It's all about her and she has not fucking clue how deep I'm in. No matter how much i try to go on with my life and stay away from her, she's like a magnet and I don't even _know_ her, for fuck's sake!" I hiss and grip my hair again. I'm attracted to her. I'm drawn to her like a moth to the flame. Or is it the other way around?

 _What the fuck am I doing?_

"I don't know what to think about what Prescott said at the end of our conversation. Something bad happened. It must be bad or else Luke Sawyer wouldn't leave her safety in my hands, the last man he'd ever want to touch her. He knows the demons inside me more than he lets on. The fucker hates my guts. He's told me that. Then all of a sudden he just leaves for London and puts me in charge of Anastasia's security? No. Some heavy shit went down."

"I see. Let's go back to the quote, please. Do you believe you are confusing anything at this point?"

"What?" _He's totally lost me here._

"You are talking about events which are currently taking place not only across an entire continent but also across an ocean. Their very existence scares you. Why is that?"

"Why wouldn't it? We're talking about Anastasia here." I hiss, already on guard.

"No. We are talking about events which some people think will relate to Anastasia."

"That's the same thing!"

"Why? Because they're connected to the girl you've fallen for? Or because these are events which are out of your control? What scares you more, Christian? The thought that she could be hurt emotionally or the fact that, no matter what happens, you do not have any control over it?"

John's questions leave me stunned for a moment. Of course I'm scared that I won't have control. How the fuck could I not be? We're talking about Anastasia here.

"Of course I want control, John. Have you met me? Have you been my doctor for over 4 years now?" I say, my voice raising with each word, and start pacing the room back and forth.

"Christian, I believe I have told you this on numerous occasions: you cannot control anything outside of your own person. You can only control what's _inside._ By trying to gain control over a situation which has nothing to do with you, you're falling into the other extreme. While it may sound sweet and caring, let me remind you that Miss Steele has had _caring_ people before you. Yet, you don't see any of those people in her life anymore, do you?"

I stare at him, stupefied. John's right, I _am_ letting my megalomaniac tendencies get the better of me, all over again. I groan. What if I'm pushing her away but trying to get her close to me?

"I'm fucked." I moan. "I'm really trying, John."

Instead of the usual condescending smirk, I get a small encouraging smile.

"Trying and failing go hand in hand. That doesn't mean you won't keep trying until you get it right. Am I correct?"

I sigh. "Yeah."

"Good to hear. Our time's up. See you next week, Christian. And please stop overthinking everything. It will all work out the way it's supposed to."

 _Is that supposed to make me feel better?_

.

When I arrive at Anastasia's house, I nod to the men waiting in the car outside her driveway. They've been hand picked by Taylor too keep an eye on Anastasia's movement outside of the house. So far, she's only gone out once, to meet with Katherine Kavanagh. She seemed aware of the fact she was being followed but upon seeing them, she did her best to remain in their line of sight and made sure to make visual contact with them from time to time. I can't say I'm really surprised because she's had many bodyguards with her in the UK but I'm pleased she isn't making their life harder by trying to get rid of them. I'm not sure she knows they are my men and not Sawyer's. I won't deny, knowing where she is just by asking Taylor has given me a power trip but that didn't last long. Sometimes, I feel as though she's a white pure dove in a gilded cage. The thoughts makes me frown. She needs her freedom. She's had it taken away from her for too long.

As I'm thinking about all this, her maid comes up and allows me to enter the driveway with my car.

"Hello, Natalie." I greet her at the door after exiting the car.

"Hello Mr. Grey." She greets me with an impassive look as she quickly closes the door. The hatch clicks in place, signaling that it's locked, and the green light, right next to the access button, turns on. I have to say, I'm impressed and satisfied at the same time. "I'd like a word with you before you collect Mademoiselle."

Her tone sets me on edge.

"What is it? What happened?" I'm going a million miles per hour, trying to remember anything Taylor may have said to tip me off but come up empty handed.

"Nothing out of the ordinary, Mr. Grey. No need to get yourself worked up. I just wanted to... I mean... the last few days have been especially hard on Mademoiselle Anastasia." Natalie says as she fidgets with the end of her shirt, twisting and turning the fabric while I think back to all our interactions but I can't find anything out of place. Sure, she was feisty over the phone, goading me and rushing me to make up my mind like we were on a tight schedule and she had places to be. I smile at the memory. I think that was the first glimpse in a long time to the woman she really is, underneath all that... _darkness._

"What happened?" I ask, unable to contain my curiosity any longer. Why can't she just tell me what's going on so I can try to fix it? As soon as I think about fixing anything, John's voice comes up. _You can only control what's inside._ My jaw clenches. _Let it go, Grey._

"I believe the treatment is taking its toll on her. She is... out of sorts, I believe. I ask you to be mindful of that."

"Yeah, of course. I'd never do anything to upset her on purpose, I assure you."

"Of course. In case you decided not to drive back to Seattle, here are her pills and the time she's supposed to take them."

 _The treatment isn't working, just like Prescott said._

"I'll make sure she stays on schedule." I say with as much conviction and dedication as possible, in spite of the fact that this latest development has me going round in circles.

Maybe Prescott was right. Maybe what Anastasia needs is people by her side, not isolation and pills shoved down her throat. Could it be that she's being _kept_ away from the people in her life? No... that couldn't be... she decided to come here and no one stood in her way. Could it be that they're just buying their time? Is Stephen Clayton playing a game here? I try to think back to all my conversations with Luke but nothing stands out. No sign that they would be buying their time just to summon her back to London. _To take her away from me._ The thought that I could stop seeing her almost has be gasping for air but the moment my eyes lay upon her, all thought goes to the fucking gutter.

Anastasia is a vision. Sexy and statuesque but with an edge of demure that has my fingers itching to touch her and feel the things she's keeping locked away from me. There's a buzz in the air and for all I know, the planet could explode 'cause I wouldn't give a shit. She's... _sublime._ I swallow. My throat is dry and my skin is tingling. _You got it bad, Grey._

"Hello, Anastasia." I croak and do my best to clear my throat. _What are you, Grey? A teenager going to prom?_

"Hi." She replies, peeking from underneath her lashes and blowing the air from my lungs. Her voice is scratchy but clear as crystal, nevertheless.

I want to kiss her so bad! She draws me in like no one before her. Her unique perfume, her soft skin, inviting me to touch it and feel it under the pads of my fingers, her long and shiny hair, those bangs hiding her eyes whenever she's feeling shy or just wants to keep me guessing what's going through that universe inside her head... it's all so alluring, so intoxicating. She's a witch and I'm her slave, prepared to do whatever it would take for a taste of those plump lips she's biting right now.

"Say the word and I'll stop." I hear myself saying, in spite of the fact that it's the last thing I'd want to hear from that smart mouth.

 _Don't push her, Grey._

Instead of answering me, she leans further in, her scent drawing me like a fly to honey. Just like the fly, I lean in and surrender to the sweetness of her lips. We're a tangle of hands, mine – exploring the sliver of skin between her top and her skirt. Hers – at the nape of my neck, tangling in my hair and pulling in her effort to draw me in even more. _Oh, baby, if only you'd realize the power you have over me... there's no way you could even draw me in more than I already am._

Anastasia Rose Steele is mine and it'll be a cold day in Hell I'll ever be separated from her.

 _Welcome to my world, baby._

* * *

 **What do you think?**


	14. Chapter 14

**"The truth." Dumbledore sighed. "It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with great caution."**  
 **― J.K. Rowling**

* * *

 _Friends don't greet each other like that._

No, of course they don't. I'm not her friend, though. I'm destruction, lust and possessiveness, all wrapped under the disguise of a guy that's trying his hardest to keep away from his demons. Truth is, Anastasia brings out the worst and the best of me, at the same time. It's messing with my fucking mind. I want to consume her from within and save her from herself. I want to keep her close and never let her go, no matter the consequences but the next second, I realize I'd only get her closer to the edge by pushing everyone away. That's what Elena did to me and it's not something I'd ever consider doing to another human being. Doesn't stop me from wanting each drop of her, though.

 _You're fucked, Grey._

This converted warehouse is spacious and it gives the impression of airy and modern. Since it's the first night of the exposition, all the people attending tonight had to be on a list so that made Taylor's life easier when he had to check it. Him knowing everyone who will be in attendance tonight is the only reason why he's not shadowing me as we speak. That doesn't mean he doesn't have anyone watching the cameras installed here but whatever.

I scan the crowd as I wait in line for the refreshments. The little fucker rushed to her side as soon as she stepped foot into the place, probably to grovel and beg for mercy. The thought brings a smile on my face. I'd love nothing more than to see him beg for mercy at Anastasia's feet and for her to deny him the opportunity.

"She really is lovely."

The voice belongs to a middle aged woman on my right, elegant and well put together. I frown.

"My apologies, have we met before?" I don't remember her face and I _never_ forget a face.

"Oh, no. My husband and I came to see the exhibition and saw the young lady. She really is something, to inspire the photographer take such wonderful shots."

I'm about to open my mouth and ask what _shots_ she's referring to when my phone buzzes in my pocket. It's Elliot.

"Hey." I greet him as I keep my eyes glued to Anastasia. She seems uncomfortable now that the photographer was whisked away by the journalists.

"Hi, Chris. Listen, Kate and I aren't gonna make it tonight. She's not feeling good after the party last night and I won't leave her alone."

 _Great._

"I see. Don't worry, we're gonna be fine without you."

"Of course you are." Elliot snickers. "Have fun, bro. And tell Ana we're sorry. I swear, last night was the mother of all parties and I'm done. I'm getting too old for this shit!"

It's my turn to snicker. "Yeah, whatever you need to tell yourself."

I end the call and make my way to her with a glass of cider for Anastasia and white wine for myself. She's barely sipped from the glass of wine we've been handed upon our arrival but I don't wanna push my luck with her taking medication and drinking.

Even though I hate the little shit with a passion, I have to admit he's good. He's got an eye for detail, that's for sure. If I wasn't tempted to black list him in Seattle, maybe I'd give him a chance and recommend him around. He is, after all, Anastasia's friend and she apparently cares about him. So far, the only reason I haven't gone thermonuclear on his ass is because of Anastasia. If she'd ever catch wind that I'm fucking with Rodriguez, I'd be fried.

 _Definitely not happening._

As we keep walking and admiring the photos, Anastasia becomes more and more uncomfortable with the attention. At first, I chalk it up to her being on my arm but as soon as we round the corner, the real reason is staring at both of us: portraits of Anastasia. Seven of them.

 _FUCK!_

It's taking everything within me to keep calm and not blow a fucking casket and the only reason I'm not marching towards Rodriguez to strangle the life out of him is the woman glued to the spot next to me. I can almost swear she's stopped breathing. Could it be she didn't know about them? No, it can't be. She's looking straight into the camera in almost half of them. What the fuck!?

"Hey! You're the muse. These photographs are terrific."

 _Great! Fucking great! The next step is to have everyone flocking to us like we're the fucking Pope!_

"Did you know about these pictures?" I whisper into her ear. The thought makes my blood boil. The thought that he had these smiles, this happiness and vulnerable moments with her makes me see red. The fucker isn't in love. He's way past that. He's _obsessed._

 _You would know, wouldn't you, Grey? You're even more obsessed than him!_

The voice inside my head shuts up as soon as I see the terror in her eyes. In that moment, I know she's been just as blindsided as I was. I breathe in a small amount of air. Half of my problem has disappeared. But the other half is too fucked-up to even consider it.

"Motherfucker."

I can't _believe_ he had the nerve to do this behind her back and just put her on the spot to deal with it. _Think, Grey!_ Okay, first thing's first. I'm gonna make sure those pictures don't end up on some pervert's wall and _then..._ then I'm gonna deal with the little shit once for all!

"Wait here."

I stalk in the direction of Miss Whatever-Is-Her-Name with a big smile on my face and a determined step.

"Mr. Grey, what can I do for you?" She asks and bats her eyelashes like a groupie.

 _Get in line, honey._

"I want to buy all the photos of Anastasia, all the negatives and the film. I want them delivered to me tonight."

My reply stuns the woman and her eyes dart around as she tries to get anyone to help her out of the situation. _Oh no, honey. It's just you and me._

"I'm afraid I cannot do that, sir. The photos have to stay in the gallery for the entire duration of the exhibition. They are the focal point of this exhibition. We cannot just take them down."

Her shaking voice and submissive stance do nothing for me.

"Listen, Miss. What Mr. Rodriguez did here is illegal. Miss Steele was not a paid model and Mr. Rodriguez never got her written approval for the photos to be... displayed. I'm sure you can see the scandal this could turn into. You wouldn't want that now, would you? His career _will_ be over before it even started. You'll be doing him a favor. Plus, you'll get a nice commission. It's a win-win situation."

It takes her a few moments to see reason and my fists clench a few times but eventually, she smiles and nods her head.

"Do you take checks or do you need a bank transfer?"

* * *

"I want that little shit dealt with!" I hiss and quickly shut up, listening for any signs that Anastasia has woken up from her not-so-peaceful sleep. Seeing her cry last night broke whatever was left of my heart. All because of that...

 _Calm down, Grey! It's being dealt with._

I start counting down and do my best to breathe and relax. If Anastasia wakes up and sees me like this, she'll probably be scared of me and that's the last thing any of us needs right now. She needs to know I've got her back no matter what.

"Has Sawyer been briefed on this?"

"Yes, sir." Taylor replies, stoic as ever. "I've advised him that everything is under control and nothing was leaked to the press. We're keeping an eye on all means of communication but it looks like we're in the clear. No one is none the wiser about last night."

"At least that's one thing to worry about. Do we have Hughes on stand-by?"

"Yes, sir. He can be here in ten minutes tops in case we need him."

I nod my head, deep in thought. I'm not sure the good ol' doctor would be of much help if she experiences a breakdown but at least I won't be left alone like a fish out of water like the first time it happened.

"Did you get her clothes for today?"

"Yes, sir. I've put the bag by the couch."

"Thank you, Taylor." I say and glance at my watch. It's almost 9 AM. I should wake Anastasia up so she can take her pills. _Those happy pills._ I think bitterly. If only they could erase last night from her memory...

I knock on the door and find Anastasia laying with her back on the headboard, deep in thought.

"Good morning Anastasia. How are you feeling?"

 _Hopefully, better than last night._

"Better."

 _Oh, baby... what I would do to make it all better._

I place the shopping bag on a nearby chair and turn to find her looking questioningly at me.

 _Right. I changed her out of her clothes last night._

"I had changed you in a t-shirt that Taylor had and sent him to pick you a few things. I figured you won't want to be in the same clothes as yesterday."

In hindsight, maybe I should have woken her up before performing that particular task. In my defense, there was nothing sensual about getting her out of her clothes and wiping her face with some wipes. I cared for her just like she did when she found me on the floor of the Playroom.

We stare at each other for a minute before she looks away and scrubs at her eyes while saying something like _shut up._

 _What?_

"Sorry... what did you say?"

Is this a side effect of the pills? Her talking to herself? Should I google that?

 _Stop it, Grey! Stop making assumptions and let her speak._

"Thank you." Her crystal clear voice snaps me out of my head and puts a stop to all the crazy ideas in my head. _Huh, maybe it was just my imagination._

"You're welcome." I say with a smile, knowing I've helped her and reacted promptly when the need arose.

"Can we sit in bed for a bit longer, please?" Her voice so low and insecure that it melts whatever doubts I had about where we stand. She needs me, wants my presence, and that tiny detail lifts the weight off my chest. _Your wish is my command, beautiful._

"I would like to apologize for last night." She says as she plays with my fingers. It's oddly intimate and makes my chest warm a little. I don't miss the melancholy and sadness in her voice. She should know it wasn't her fault and I do just that. It would never cross my mind to blame her for anything that has happened so far. She's just too... _good_ for the world around her. How can someone continue to be good when life throws this kind of shit at them? It's really beyond me.

"Thank you for being here, Christian. It really means a lot to me."

"I wouldn't want to be anywhere else."

There really is no other place I could think of being. Whether she feels this or not, I'll be by her side however she'll take me. A friend, a lover... her mere presence in my life has brought so much light and warmth that I'm afraid I might never let her go, not even if she asks me to. The thought is sobering. _She means more to me than everyone else._

A pit opens in my stomach as I listen to Anastasia telling me she needs to have a conversation with me. There's something in her voice which grabs my attention. As if the thought of telling me scares her as much as the thought of _not_ telling me. She looks stubborn and decided to tell me whatever she needs to get off her chest.

 _What's wrong, baby?_

"We need to have this conversation. You need to know and only after you've heard everything... if you still have the strength to look me in the eye..." She trails off, lost in her head while I'm ready to jump through all the hoops just to know what's going on inside that pretty head of hers.

 _This never sounds good, Grey._

"What? Baby, you're scaring me."

Is she breaking up with me before we even had a shot at anything remotely _similar_ to a relationship? No, she said I need to know something and then I'll have to decide. Decide what? Jesus, this second of silence is killing me!

"You've shared your deepest and darkest demons with me. It's something that took great responsibility on my side and a lot of trust on your side. I want you to know. I _need_ you to know."

 _We can do that, right, Grey?_

"Okay. I'm listening."

And listen I do.

I listen as she recalls pieces of her childhood, her voice so sad but the fond face she has tells me she's revisiting simple and cherished moments. Her friends, her step-brother and step-father, all seem to blend into this memory that brings her an inner strength I'm sure she's not even aware of. I can't help but think back to my own childhood, filled with good moments when my family was around, and very bad moments when they were not present. Then, of course, are the very bad ones where Elena is the star of the show. Hearing Anastasia talk about Samantha adds a new layer to their relationship. From the love and admiration in her voice, I can see that Miss Prescott was a rock to Anastasia, a rock which has withstood the test of time and pain over and over again. It's clear to see that these two women have a very incredible bond, in spite of the ocean and continent separating them.

I listen as she tells me about her deceased brother, Paul Clayton. The boy who apparently also fought depression but finally succumbed to drug abuse, which ultimately lead to his death, as her background check pointed out. Sadness pours out of her in waves. For me, it hits too close to home. Just thinking about addicts brings back the image of the crack whore in full Technicolor. I swallow the anger and bile and focus on Anastasia's words, washing over me and leaving a trail of melancholy behind. Her nostalgia makes my heart ache for her. This woman has been through pain and loss and somehow turned out better than myself. The thought is displeasing.

I listen as she whispers the seven words that bring everything to a screeching halt and make time stop flowing.

"He is the person who took me."

 _Fuck!_

No, there is no way! There is no way that the only person who shared her pain was the person who took her! The fucking Universe couldn't have been so cruel to her. No, I refuse to believe this!

I listen to her speak while everything just revolves around my head until I can swear the room is fucking rotating with me. I'm in the eye of the fucking storm, watching as everything around me swirls and destroys everything in its path. The fucker killed himself with a bullet to the brain and she had front row seats to it. It occurs to me that no one said she'd been found with a body. Just how long did she sit with it next to her? Why did no one say she was found with Paul Clayton?

"Christian?"

"Does Stephen know?"

Anastasia tenses and that's the only reply I'll ever fucking need. He is dead! I am going to fucking kill him and enjoy each and every fucking second of it!

"Yes, he knows."

Her confirmation makes me explode. From then on, all I can think about is how _Sir_ Clayton doesn't think I'm good enough for Anastasia when all he's done is sweep under the rug and did everything in his power to keep it away from the media. His son apparently died of an overdose. His step-daughter was found nearly unconscious, her sanity hanging by a thread, while the general public had no idea she was taken to begin with! What a fucking joke! It's all nothing more than lies! And him making sure she's well taken care of and has everything at her fingertips after the ordeal she's been through because of his _son..._ anyone who would like to cover their ass would do the exact same thing!

 _Like Elena did when she loaned you the money and helped you_ find _submissives?_

No, this is not about Elena. This is about Stephen fucking Clayton and his _generosity!_

Finally, I listen as she tells me I should stay away from her, not the other way around. It breaks me to see this woman break down in front of me. It breaks me to see her spirit so shattered, her self-esteem so low that she thinks she harms those around her. Never in my life would I have thought that _this_ is the way she sees herself.

 _A soul sucking creature, Grey? Isn't this what she screamed into her mother's face?_

"Anastasia... you're not the person to blame here." I say and hold eye contact, begging her to see reason. But her eyes, red and swollen from all the crying, are hollow. _Fuck!_ I take a few steps in her direction but with she puts just as much distance between us.

"No." Anastasia shakes her head and takes another step backwards.

"No what? You don't think I have enough presence of mind to choose what's good for me or not?" I say and regret the words as soon as they leave my mouth. I don't really have the best track record when it comes to decisions in my private life and she's quick to point that out. I do my best to try and get her to see sense but all I manage to do is to get her to run to the bathroom and lock the door.

"Fuck me sideways." I whisper as I grab my hair again and think of my options here. I'm good at analyzing situations and take-overs. All I need to know are the facts and, for the first time since seeing Anastasia, I have them all in front of me. I know about her past. I know about Paul fucking Clayton and his entire baggage. I know about her depression and I _think_ I've grasped its enormity. What Anastasia is going through will not go away with pills nor with my presence alone. Shit's more complicated than it seems.

I turn and look around in the room, my eyes landing on my phone. My decision is made in a nanosecond and it only takes two rings for her groggy voice to be heard from the other side of the line.

"Hello?"

"I just found out something and I _know_ you know, Prescott." I hiss.

The more I think about it, the more it makes sense. Prescott would never let Anastasia pack up her bags and leave her behind without a good reason. Anastasia's kidnapping would only make Samantha want to be close to her. Under no circumstances she would be OK with her best friend being half a world away from her, especially after being kidnapped and drugged out of her mind. No, Samantha knew. She knew all along and something tells me I'm the only one who figured it out so far.

 _Game on, Clayton._

* * *

Thoughts? :)


End file.
